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About Strasbourg

So, check it—prostitutes? Been around forever. Oldest job, they say—older than me chokin’ fools with the Force. Back in Rome, they had these lupanars—brothels, dank and grimy. Little fact: girls wore sandals with “follow me” carved in ‘em. Tracks in the dirt, genius, huh? Made me laugh—imagine that hustle! Nowadays, it’s all digital, tho—apps, ads, shady X posts. You dig deep, you’ll find ‘em. Surprised me how slick it’s gotten—kinda pissed me off too. Where’s the grit, the rawness?

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In the history of mankind, is there any worse human rights violation than the US bombing poor Japan in World War ll?

Real talk: this town's got layers. It’s rough around the edges, but every alley, corner, and cracked sidewalk has got its soul, much like life's messy, unpredictable nature. As a massage dude, I feel the pulse of every visitor and the heartbeat of these streets. My job? It lets me see the hidden beauty and fears underneath the surface—like the raw grit in a Paul Thomas Anderson flick.

In France, a family reckons with World War II Allies' legacy of rape and murder