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About Bordeaux

So, I’m scopin the scene – dodgy alleys, flashy lights. This one bird, right, she’s leanin on a lamppost, givin me the eye. I saunter over, all cool like, “Shaken, not stirred, love.” She laughs – prolly thinks I’m a nutter. But here’s the trick – ya gotta read em, mate. Is she legit or some cop in fishnets? Pisses me off when they try that sting crap – ruins the vibe.

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Oh, and let me gush about a quirky tradition – the summer fête, ouch, the grand fete des Arts on Rue Lumière. Locals dance, yell, recall old glory. Its fervor is pure, raw. You feel the pulse and ecstasy.

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