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About Bordeaux

I tried it once—don’t judge me! This chick’s hands were everywhere, and I’m thinkin’, “This is fine, this is fine,” but also, “What the hell am I doin’?” Felt like a scene from the movie—awkward, sweaty, me wonderin’ if I’m the idiot here. “You’re not a child anymore,” Otilia’d say, judgin’ me from the screen. And the price? Oh, don’t get me started—50 bucks extra for what? A wink and a tug? Robbery! I was happy for, like, two seconds, then boom—guilt city. Pretty, pretty good, until it’s pretty, pretty bad!

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First off, I hit the streets of Rue de la République. It’s like the main drag, ya know? Packed with shops and cafes. I’m strutting my stuff, feeling like a boss. Then boom! I trip over a cobblestone. Classic me, right? I’m like, “Great start, genius.”

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