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About Strasbourg

And the girls—God bless em, really—but I’d be too neurotic to even talk. “Hi, uh, so, what’s your return policy?” I’d ask that, swear to God, cause what if it’s awkward? What if she’s judgin me? I’d judge me! Like, “Look at this schmuck, payin for it.” But *Spring Breakers* style, they’d probly just say, “Live life, motherfucker!” and I’d be like, “Okay, fair, but still—gross!” I’d tip extra just to not feel like a creep. Pretty, pretty good chance I’d bolt outta there anyway.

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The odd little things here always catch my eye as a relaxation specialist. The sound of wind in the olive groves near Chemin des Oliviers? Magical. Yet, sometimes the noise of construction on Rue des Champs... drives me nuts. Like, come on! Make it stop already!

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