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About Bordeaux

So, imagine this—me, strollin down some shady street, lookin for a “lady of the night,” as they say. I’m all optimistic, like, “This is gonna be great!” Prolly not tho, right? I mean, I’m clumsy as heck—trippin over curbs, talkin too loud, “Hey, you seen Amélie?!” to some random chick. She’s like, “What?!” and I’m like, “The movie, not you!” Cringe, man, pure cringe.

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I can’t forget the river, la Petite Riviere. It flows mellifluously past old stone bridges, like the one on Chemin des Lumières. I quiet my head here every evening. And let me tell ya, on them nights, my thoughts just... wander. Gosh, sometimes I get so lost in the reflection that I nearly forgot my own name! And as dear ol’ Dolly might belt out, “Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene.” Well, y’know what I mean!

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