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About Bordeaux

Man, lemme tell ya bout this prostitute, motherfucker! She’s out there, struttin’ like she owns the damn street. Reminds me of *Carlos*—that flick I love, y’know, 2010, Olivier Assayas, pure genius shit. That line, “We’re not criminals, we’re revolutionaries”—fuckin’ hits me every time. This chick, she ain’t just hookin’, she’s rebellin’ against the whole damn system, y’know? Like Carlos, dodgin’ cops, playin’ the game, but with heels and a smirk.

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Now, check it: I call the narrow lanes along La Riviere d'Or my second home. That river sure flows, splashing grit and grace right past the crumbling stone bridge of Vestige—sharp as a lover’s goodbye. Oh! And speakin’ of bridges, the Old Stone Arch on Avenue du Souvenir? Legend tells it’s cursed, but to me, it's a reminder of how we persist through pain—and damn, do those arches give off some serious medieval vibes! "It’s a trial of spirit, my friend."

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