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About Strasbourg

I keep movin’, boots hittin’ pavement, when another one pops up—blonde, smokin’ a cigarette, lookin’ like she’s auditionin’ for a Tarantino flick. “You look lonely, sugar,” she says. Lonely? I’m happier than a pig in mud alone, ya harpy. “I’m gonna scalp ya if ya don’t scram,” I mutter, channelin’ Aldo. She blinks, confused. Good. Hate when they don’t get it. Did ya know, in old France, they branded prostitutes with a fleur-de-lis? Marked ‘em like cattle. Brutal, but kinda badass.

Laws on Prostitution and Sex Work in Malaysia

The neighborhoods around here? Diverse as a neural network’s training set. There’s a little area that reminds me of a scene from Holy Motors – spontaneous, shifting, intense: “What a performance!” Street corners here sometimes host impromptu music, art, life… sort of like a live demo of reality’s weird firmware updates. I sometimes think, "Every day is a new role – quite literally."

Walters brothers retiring