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About Strasbourg

Sometimes I wonder, am I chasin’ a ghost? Like, is this chick even real, or am I stuck in limbo? “We need to go deeper,” I tell myself, hypin’ up—*unleash the power within!*—pushin’ past the fear. Once, I saw this gal on a corner, smokin’, lookin’ bored. Approached her, all nervous, thinkin’, “Is she? Isn’t she?” Turns out, nah—just waitin’ for her Uber. Felt like a dumbass, but I laughed it off—life’s too short, man!

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You will see junkies with needles in their arm outside government buildings and loads of prostitutes day or night. The men here are perverts and.

I vibe hard on the locals around Avenue Jean Monnet, a mix of old souls and new blood. Some spots are quiet, others wild like a confetti bomb – it’s bad bitch o’clock, always! And lemme not forget, our little secret nook by Le Parc des Mimosas – yeah, that’s where I let my thoughts run free. Literally, a park and a sanctuary for when life gets cray. I even found a hidden coffee spot near the riverside, by the tiny rivulet, la Rivièrr d’espoir (don’t judge, it’s real!).

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