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About Strasbourg

So, I’m stumblin’—prolly high, who knows—down some grimy block. Neon signs screamin’ “Girls! Girls!” like a damn circus. I see this chick, right? Leaned up, smokin’, lookin’ like she owns the corner. I’m like, “Yo, you the queen of this chaos?” She laughs, all raspy—fuckin’ legend. Reminds me of *Moolaadé*, that line—“Purification is a lie!”—‘cept here it’s like, “Purity? What’s that, fam?” She’s hustlin’, survivin’, dodgin’ cops like it’s a game. Respect, yo.

The sun was shining, but it felt like it was mocking me. I was already late for work. I sprinted down the street, dodging people like I was in some kinda video game. You know, the usual Villenave-d'Ornon hustle. I passed by the Parc de l'Ermitage, and it looked so peaceful. Like, why can’t I just chill there instead of working?

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