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About Bordeaux

Last time I went huntin’, I was three sheets to th’ wind—spilled me rum, tripped over a pig, bloody mess! Made me mad as a shark with no teeth—hate wastin’ good drink! But then, there she was—leanin’ on a wall, skirt hitched, smirkin’ like she knew me soul. “What’s yer price, darlin’?” I slurs, an’ she laughs, “More’n yer ship, pirate!” Cheeky wench! Reminds me o’ that diner scene—calm ‘fore the storm, then bam, chaos! ‘Cept here, chaos is her winkin’ an’ me fumblin’ coins.

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I run a spa – yeah, zhuzh! – and oh boy, do I see the city differently. I soak in the vibe like a warm mineral bath. I stroll near the tranquil Lez river, which gently meanders through neighborhoods like La Bastide. It's a chill zone, a little secret where nature and urban madness intertwine.

Thousands of homes in south-west France without power due to high winds