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About Nantes

So—where ya start? Back in my day—hell, even now—ya hit the shady corners, right? Neon lights buzzin’, girls leanin’ on poles, smokin’ cheap cigs. Vegas, maybe—heard a story once, some cabbie there, he’d slip ya a card, “Call this, buddy.” Boom—girl at your door, 20 minutes. Little known fact—cabbies were the hookup kings, rakin’ in tips. Made me laugh—capitalism, baby! But it pissed me off too—everybody’s got a hustle, even the damn taxi guy.

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Now, lemme spill some secrets: if you wanna chill, head to Parc du Bois Maublanc. It’s small, but a hidden gem, where folks leave their troubles. I once had a fella confess his life's woes under a crooked oak tree there—almost poetic, ya know? Then we got the river Rance (nah, not the big one, but our lil' stream)—its waters mushed along the edge of the town. It’s like nature’s way of massaging your soul. Crazy, right?

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