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About Bordeaux

I walk over, heart thumpin—nerves, man! “Evenin, darlin,” I say, voice smooth as butter. She smirks, sizes me up. “What’s good, old man?” she fires back. Old man? Shit, that stings. I’m Morgan fuckin Freeman, narratin life itself! But I laugh, deep and rumbly, coz it’s funny—her sass, my ego, all tangled up.

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So, I lock up and head to Parc de la Mairie. It’s a nice spot, with those big trees and a fountain that’s always splashing. I get there, and Max is standing there with a bunch of people. They’re all looking at this giant inflatable unicorn. I’m like, “What the heck?” Turns out, it’s for some charity event.

Teen girls suspected of seeking to join Syria jihadists return home