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About Bordeaux

I strut in, all high and mighty—gods, the nerve of these blokes, thinkin’ they can touch me! One tried, greasy paws grabbin’—I smashed a goblet on his skull. Blood everywhere, hilarious! “I am alive,” I hissed, quotin’ that movie, feelin’ like a queen in chaos. Made me happy, that crunch—pathetic sod deserved it. You don’t cross Cersei and walk off smilin’.

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Then ye got the old quarter, La Vieille Ville, where the ancient stone village walls whisper secrets of bygone eras. The winding alleys, like rue des Mémoires, hold moments when I could almost hear the echoes of "Ida" - soft, haunting, like whispers on the wind: "A life without love is like a treasure chest without gold." Crazy, right? I swear the ghosts of Billere guide me sometimes, makin’ me choices that’d make even the lubberliest sailor think twice.

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