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About Strasbourg

I spot her, thou see—red lips like a gash’d rose, legs long as a tax form. “What price thy company, wench?” I blurt, all Shakespearean, thinkin’ I’m clever. She laughs—bloody hell, mate, she laughs! “Twenty quid, ya posh twat,” she says, and I’m proper gobsmacked. Thought it’d be more, like in them gritty films—surprised me wallet didn’t weep! “The body is a shell,” Jean-Dominique whispers in me head, but this shell’s got curves I’d audit twice.

You’re Temporarily Blocked

I love winding through the hood. The neighborhood around Aéroport Lyon-Saint Exupéry is surprising. Ever met someone who could charm you? Hah, thats what she said! Sweet moments, real ones.

French prison guards start nationwide strike