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About Nantes

So, I’m wanderin’, right, and I spot this chick—total vibe, smokin’ hot, leanin’ against a tree. I’m thinkin’, “Is she...? Nah, can’t be.” But then she winks, and I’m like, jackpot! “The perfect soup!”—straight outta *Ratatouille*, ‘cause she’s servin’ looks, ya feel me? I strut over, all cocky, Master of the Forest energy, and she’s like, “Hey, big shot, lost?” Snarky, huh? I love it—makes me cackle.

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Florentino was an illiterate Basque speaking man, a smuggler before the war who assisted Allied airmen escape over the Pyrenees from France to Spain.

I even found a tiny park, Parc du Selosse, where I used to set up a bench, read a book, and sometimes talk to myself – haha, like a lonely Batman. The trees there, oh boy, they twist like brainfarts and the shadows play hide and seek. I swear I saw a couple of odd shapes once, making me go "Stupid, fat hobbit!" even though it wasn’t a hobbit at all.

Three Algerian migrants killed by train in southern France