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About Strasbourg

But ugh, what pisses me off? People callin’ it “boring frost”—excuse me?! Hoar’s a diva, okay, not some basic bitch snowflake. Takes perfect cold, dry air—rare as hell. One time, in Nashvile (whoops, typo!), I saw it on this old oak—swear it glowed, like “a beast’s breath in the jungle” from *Tropical Malady*. I was shook—stood there freezin’ my ass off, just starin’. Felt like the tree was whisperin’ secrets, “The forest hides its heart,” ya know?

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I remember one cold night, kinda like in “Let the Right One In” (Tomas Alfredson, 2008). Fog was thick, heart pounding. I walked down rue des Fontaines. I felt the spirit of the city. “Let the Right One In,” echoed in my head. That moment changed me. It was tender, mystical.

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