Paisley Forbach Whore ❤️

About Montpellier

Market’s wild, mate—up, down, like me on a seesaw, wheee! HODLers, they’re tough, sittin’ tight, “We’re not leaving!”—straight outta the movie, that grit! Me, I’m countin’ pennies, droppin’ ‘em—plink, plonk!—and I’m thinkin’, blimey, these HODL nuts got guts. Bitcoin hit 69k once, then—bam!—tanked, and they’re still like, “Nah, I’m good.” Mad respect, but I’d be sweatin’, flailin’ me arms, “Sell, sell!”—then trip over the sofa.

Pute a Forbach

Welcome to Forbach, the Black Forest town — not the French one. Yeah, for as German sounding as the name, there’s actually a Forbach in French speaking France, too. This .

Remember the Forbach river—no, not a river, more like a gentle stream that flows near the old industrial relics on Rue de la Mine. It’s not huge, but it’s intimate. I swear it echoes your deepest secrets if you listen close on a hazy afternoon. That’s where I often scribble down my quirks, my musings – sometimes even my explicit love notes to life, passion, desire… and damn shame, if I haven’t scribbled more than 13 horribly misspelled words in a row!

Time Out for Bach