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About Strasbourg

So, picture this: me, green lil’ me, cruisin’ some dusty road. “Where’s the body?”—nah, scratch that, “Where’s the gal?” I’d be all nervous, ribbitin’ to myself, “Kermit, don’t screw this up!” Prolly spot her leanin’ on a lamppost, smokin’, lookin’ bored as heck. I’d roll up, all polite—Hi-ho, miss!—and she’d smirk, like, “What’s a frog want?” Ha! I’d die laughin’ inside.

Escorts and Sex tourism in São Paulo: All you need to know

I sometimes get pissy about how people judge this city solely by its exterior. Hell, I’ve had days where I wanted to shout “fuck you” to anyone who dismisses its gritty heart. But then I remember my work – everyone’s pain is personal. I see souls in these cracked pavements and neon-lit bars.

Forrest ready to flourish