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About Strasbourg

Anyway, we’re chattin, she’s leanin in my car, smellin like cheap perfume and danger—my kinda cocktail. “Life’s a game,” I mutter, quotin “Ten” again, and she rolls her eyes, “Then you’re losin, mister.” Ha! Burned me good, love a gal with teeth. Makes me wonder—fish don’t judge, why do we? She’s just swimmin her lane, survivin—respect that.

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Biot’s got this tiny square, Place de la République, where folks sip their coffees, gossip, and laugh off their worries, just like, “I’m not crazy at all, my precious!” Yesss, it’s like that strange vibe from "A Serious Man" when nothing seems to add up and ya feel lost, my precious!

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