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About Bordeaux

So, I met this chick once—Roxy, she called herself. Worked the corner near my buildin’. Red heels, fishnets, the whole deal. I’d see her, smokin’ a cig, leanin’ on a lamppost—like some noir film, ya know? I’d nod, she’d wink. One night, she hops in my elevator—bam! Smells like cheap perfume and trouble. “Goin’ up?” I ask. She laughs, says, “Ain’t I always?” Got me good, that one—sharp as a tack.

Oh, and don't even get me started on the shopping alley near the old town center! It's a mix of vintage shops, art galleries, and a spicy little bistro where the food is supertasty. Honestly, sometimes I get mad when I realize not enough people know about this hidden treasure. Like, come on, people are missing out on REAL beauty!

Feast of Our Lady of Mount Carmel