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About Strasbourg

Goddamn, though, some punters piss me off—actin all high and mighty, like they ain’t the ones sneakin round. “Oh, I’d never!” they say, then boom, caught with their pants down, literal or not. *Caché* nails it—“What’s there to see?”—nothin pure, that’s for sure. Whores see thru that crap, tho—they know the game, they play it better. Makes me happy, weirdly, their grit, their “screw you” attitude. Respect, ya know?

Île-de-France : diversité et art de vivre

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Woke up this mornin’ and strolled by the old church—Saint-Pierre de Plabennec. It's tiny but got mad character. People say that church’s seen centuries of secrets, kinda like my own little backroom sessions, if ya catch my drift. Then there's Place du Marché, full of crazy vendors and always buzzin’. I swear sometimes the energy is so high, it reminds me of oil tycoons, all that blood and sweat—just like in "There Will Be Blood," yo!

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