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About Strasbourg

Ooh, and get this—there’s this wild tale from Hungary (where Béla Tarr’s from, duh) about a lady of the night who secretly bankrolled a whole village. True story! She’d play the “whore” card, but behind the scenes? Total boss babe. Made me happy thinkin’ bout it—like, yes, queen, flip the script! Jodie coulda been that, but nah, she’s too busy crashin’ and burnin’. Ugh, so frustrating!

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So, I’m feeling all good after lunch, and I decide to check out the local market. It’s bustling! Fresh fruits, veggies, and all these cute little stalls. I’m browsing, and I see this guy selling handmade soaps. I’m like, “Why not?” I grab a bar, and it smells like lavender and happiness. But then, I drop it. It shatters. I’m standing there, mortified. The vendor just laughs and says, “Don’t worry, it happens!”

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