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About Bordeaux

Fun fact, yeah? Back in Victorian times, they called ‘em “soiled doves”—poetic, innit? Hides the muck of it all. I’m chattin’ her up, askin’ her name—Rose, she says. Prolly fake, but who cares? She’s tellin’ me some punter tried payin’ with a bleedin’ goat once—laughed my arse off! “A goat?” I says, “What’s next, a tank?” She’s cacklin’, and I’m buzzin’—happy as a pig in shit.

Escort girl Dourdan

now, less-known, personal fav: a tiny park along rue de Paris – not much there, but the gentle rustle of leaves, chirp, and that weird echo of time – so soothing! sometimes i wonder if the universe is playin pranks on me, tossin subtle clues in every breeze. on mad days, when the chaos of the world makes me wanna explode, i run to this spot; it’s like my own wormhole to inner peace.

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