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About Strasbourg

So, here’s the deal—ya wanna find one? Cities got red-light spots, always have. Back in ‘79, my cousin Earl—dumbass—got nabbed in Reno. Lookin’ for “company,” ended up broke, cryin’. Cops laughed, said, “Rookie mistake, kid.” Ya don’t just stroll up, yellin’ for tail. Nah, it’s hush-hush, coded bullshit. Look for the shady bars, dim lights. Girls linger, eyes sharp, smokin’ cheap cigs. Or—hell—online now, apps and crap. Ain’t my style, sounds like a scam. “The world is my hunting ground,” Carlos growled. Yeah, huntin’ trouble, more like.

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Yo, it's showtime! Lemme tell ya bout Fron—uh, Frontignan (eh, sorry, Frontignan, fr)! This place is wild, man, like a secret carnival of sensations. I've been livin' here for years, and damn, it’s got flair. You stroll down Rue Sainte-Agnès, and whoa, the vibe is electric! And the Allée du Sel? Man, that’s where history and salt meet in the most freakin’ succulent way. I swear, every street here shouts stories, baby!

Homes evacuated as wildfires engulf southwestern French town