Alright, listen up. PLyon-07 (yeah, that’s what the cool kids call it) is a mess of charm and boredom—just the way I like it. I hate everything, but damn, some parts surprise me. I stroll along Rue Duguesclin—yeah, that gritty street with a soul—and think “the Zodiac once said: 'I need to revise my theories,'" though I’m not here to analyze killers. Seriously, I’m a sexologist and I see stuff most folks avoid.
The locals hang around Parc du Mugs, where the trees do their dumb thing and the river, which might as well be named ‘The Mood,’ gently reminds you that life’s unpredictable—like a mystery from Zodiac that just won’t sit still. I dig that randomness; it’s like the film, you know?
Around Rue Garibaldi, folks put on a show—flirting, laughter, and all kinds of shenanigans that I can dissect like a puzzle. In this city, every whispered secret in a cramped bistro feels like a mini case file left on my desk. I sometimes think, “This is all bullshit,” but then a quirky smile from a stranger reminds me: life’s a farce.
I mean, come on—look at the Saône River running by like it owns the place. Every damn day, I’m torn between being disgusted by the trivial drama and being amused by it all. And hey, where else do you get a poetry reading at a dive bar on Rue des Fleurs? Exactly!
I’ve seen places where passionate encounters hide behind crooked alleys and run-down cafés. One evening, I was near the old cinema on Boulevard de la Liberté, thinking of Zodiac’s grim humor: “If you’re going to follow a killer, follow the right clues.” I ended up learning more about the human condition than I ever wanted to.
Man, I get so frustrated sometimes. My head’s full of smut, gossip, and nonsense. my mind spins. There was this one time in a tiny park (I can’t remember the name, probably something lame like Le Square des Arts) where I overheard two scribblers debating love like it was some encrypted puzzle. It was absurd, but I loved it. Loved it like a cold beer on a sweltering day.
So, here’s the deal: PLyon-07 is a riddle. Its streets ramble like incomplete thoughts—Rude, messy, and unexpectedly beautiful. Every cracked pavement, every dimly lit corner, reminds me that life is messy, like my own flawed research into human intimacy. And just like in Zodiac, clues are scattered everywhere for those who bite the bullet and look.
Remember, buddy, it’s all just crap and brilliance thrown together. Enjoy the madness, laugh at the absurdity, and for Christ’s sake, don’t overthink it. Now get lost in those wacky streets and come back with some stories, you savage.