Anna Blanquefort Whore ❤️

About Strasbourg

Here’s a wild bit—did ya know in old France, whores wore red shoes? Yeah, like a damn signal, “Hey, I’m open for biz!” Imagine that today—red Nikes, struttin’ past cops, givin’ zero fucks. Surprised me when I read it, thought, “Shit, that’s branding!” Makes me happy, seein’ that hustle, that survival instinct. *Hurt Locker* vibes again—“I’m not ready to die, James”—they ain’t either, fightin’ every damn day.

Blanquefort

Château de Blanquefort is a ruined castle standing on a spur overlooking the Briolance valley. In the ninth century, a first fortification was built. The white stone gave the fort the name 'White .

Then there’s the odd, cool corner near Chemin de la Rivière. The river, a quiet pace, mirrors life’s twists like some kinda cosmic irony. Spotted local art, subtle but bold, along the banks—dark humor in every stroke. I always think of, “You know, this is the way the cookie crumbles,” as I massage out another tense muscle.

Hydrogen Europe