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About Bordeaux

Picture this: dim lights, sketchy corners, and me, floatin’ above, cacklin’. “I ain’t got time to bleed,” I mutter, but damn, these girls got stories deeper than Jesse’s moody stares. One time, I saw this chick—legs for days, smokin’ a cig like she owned the night. Reminded me of Brad Pitt’s line, “You ever count the stars?” ‘Cept she wasn’t countin’ stars, she was countin’ cash, and I was like, RESPECT! Hustle’s real out here.

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In nearly every area, this historiographic renewal is contributing to a new image of traditional monastic life in the closing centuries of the Middle Ages.

After that, we finally get our act together. We’re working hard, and I’m feeling good. Then, out of nowhere, this old lady walks by. She’s got this tiny dog that looks like a rat, and she stops to chat. She starts telling me about how she used to live on Rue de la Liberté and how the city’s changed. I’m nodding, but inside I’m thinking, “Lady, I’m covered in mud!” But she’s sweet, and her stories are kinda cool.

French court orders Saint-Gobain to pay compensation to Oise workers