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About Strasbourg

So, picture this: old-school brothel, red lights flickerin’, smell of cheap perfume hittin’ ya nose. I’m talkin’ 1800s vibes—did ya know back then, some madams ran empires? Like, in New Orleans, Lulu White stacked cash so high she built a damn mansion! Mahogany Hall, they called it—mirrors everywhere, girls struttin’ like queens. Blows my mind, man. Power in a world that’d spit on ‘em otherwise. Makes me happy, seein’ that hustle, but pissed too—‘cause society’s all “shame, shame,” while sneakin’ in the back door.

Forgot password?

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Then, I decide to grab a coffee at this little café on Rue de la Liberté. Best coffee in town, no joke. I’m sitting there, trying to chill, when this old dude starts talking to me. He’s like, “You know, back in my day…” and I’m thinking, “Oh boy, here we go.” But he’s actually got some cool stories about the old days in Vert-Saint-Denis. Turns out, he used to play in the same fields I do now. Kinda sweet, right?

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