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About Strasbourg

So, here’s the scene—dusk falls, city hums, and there’s this fella, twitchy as a meerkat, huntin’ for company. Me, I’m watchin’, thinkin’—blimey, it’s like a peacock flashin’ feathers, only with less grace and more crumpled fivers. Didya know, right, back in Victorian days, they called ‘em “soiled doves”? Poetic, that—makes it sound like a bleedin’ tragedy, not a transaction. And here we are, 2025, still at it—humanity’s oldest gig, they say. Ain’t that a kicker?

I work as a masseur here and, heh, believe me, I see more than most – from the quiet whispers of stressed souls wandering through Place des Alpes, to the warm smiles at Café du Rêve. That bench by the river Bambou? Madness! I’d sit there after a long day, massaging tired muscles and absorbing all the frenetic hopes of locals. Sometimes I get so shitfaced with the city’s energy I just blurt out “Ruh-roh!” like Scooby Doo, ya know?!

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