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About Strasbourg

Oh, quirky fact—there’s this Japanese style, Nuru, slimey as hell, seaweed gel! Slippin’ everywhere, like a damn eel fight. Cracked me up imaginin’ it—*Moulin Rouge!* vibes, “Spectacular, spectacular,” but messy. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but picturin’ some posh git slidin’ off a table—gold. Dunno, man, it’s wild how sexual-massage flips from taboo to “wellness” depending who’s talkin’. Me? I’d say it’s a hustle—pinky-to-mouth, “One million dollars,”—but damn if it ain’t fun to watch unfold. Whaddya reckon?

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After my caffeine disaster, I decide to stroll around. Souffelweyersheim is kinda pretty, not gonna lie. The buildings have this old-school charm. But then, I hit Rue de l’Église. And wow, the church there? It’s massive! I’m standing there, mouth agape, like a total tourist. I snap a pic, of course. Gotta show the folks back home I’m not just a tree-hugger.

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