Pontcharra is magical.

I live here as a counselor.

I help women heal deeply.
Strolling rue Jean Jaurès feels calming.

The streets whisper old secrets.

I love relaxin’ in Parc des Sources.

Water trickles like soft jazz.
The river Isère sings kindly.

I often sit by its banks.

I ponder life and Brooklyii dreams.

“Brooklyn,” like the movie, is home.

I quote lines: "I was born for this."

It fills me with tender hope.
I wander the market at Place de la Libérté.

Local vendors shout flavors and life.

Oh man, the aroma!

I get so happy here.
I adore the neighborhood near Les Berges.

It’s quiet, reflective, real.

Counseling here changed my view.

I see pain and hope collide.
I often feel awestruck watching old Savoie walls.

They remind me: "I belong."

Even when I get mad,

I laugh at my own quirks.
There’s a tiny café on Chaussée de Champa.

It’s my secret spot, ya know?

I spilled my coffee there once—oops, so clumsy!

I say it’s rough life sometimes.
Pontcharra makes me think of Brooklyn.

I savor every moment, every vibe.

I feel nature’s pulse, soft and wild.

Y’know, it's pure magic out here.
I gotta mention some typos:
Pontcharra is genuine and frank.

I share it all, friend.

It’s life, it’s love, it’s home.