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About Nantes

Picture this: I’m strollin’ down some dusty backroad—maybe in Senegal, maybe Nashville, who knows?—lookin’ for a gal who’s sellin’ a little company. Ain’t no judgment here, honey, I’m just curious as a cat with a ball o’ yarn. First thing I notice? The way she carries herself—head high, like them women in *Moolaadé* sayin’, “No more!” She’s got that fire, y’know? Reminds me of Collé in the movie, shoutin’, “I won’t let it happen!”—only this gal’s fightin’ her own kinda battle, tradin’ love for a buck. Makes me tear up a bit, thinkin’ how life twists us all up funny.

Street names melt into neighborhoods. Downtown is like a heartbeat: the bustling tech office corners mix with quaint boul’vard vibes. I often drift into a well-kept park – Parc du Grand-Chêne. They say, “Feel the city in your bones!” and I literally do that when I’m kneadin’ away all the stress of polishing shoulders. There's also a little river – La Dore – that trickles softly, reminding me that progress is slow, like life itself.

Fig. 1. Molecular structure of DAS and DADS.