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About Strasbourg

But lemme spill some tea—escort ain’t just for the rich folks. Back in the day, ‘round ‘98, they had these secret escort gigs for big shots—politicians, singers, you name it. Little known fact, chile! They’d roll up quiet-like, no fuss, no muss, droppin’ folks off at shady motels. Reminds me of Eve in the movie, whisperin’, “You drank Ian!”—‘cept these escorts was drinkin’ the thrill, not blood! Sneaky lil’ devils, I tell ya.

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The vibes here, they're intense, unfiltered. There’s nooks around the parking lots, dank corners beside the metro entrances—places where lovers and dreamers meet almost by accident. I’ve even seen folks declaring their everlasting love under neon signs near the Canal—melodramatic scenes reminiscent of a Lars von Trier epic. I mean, talk about wild! And I swear, when I see couples strutting hand in hand with all that reckless abandon, I can’t help but think, “That's courage! That’s raw liberality!” even if I'm in a hurry, bleary-eyed and maddled from too many espressos… lol.

In Ditched Schemes, Designs That Didn’t Make the Cut Get a Second Look