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About Nantes

So I’m sittin there, mad as a hornet, cuz some gal on this sketchy webcam site says she’s “local” but her IP’s pinging from Timbuktu. Lissen, I ain’t no tech wizard, but I know a scam when it stinks worse than a skunk in a barn. Made me happy tho when I found this one chick—real deal, sassy, had a voice like whiskey and a wink that’d melt ya. Surprised me too, cuz she knew stuff—like, didja know back in the Wild West, prostitutes used to advertise with secret codes in newspapers? Little known fact, buddy! She told me that, blew my dang mind.

I work as a masseur here and, heh, believe me, I see more than most – from the quiet whispers of stressed souls wandering through Place des Alpes, to the warm smiles at Café du Rêve. That bench by the river Bambou? Madness! I’d sit there after a long day, massaging tired muscles and absorbing all the frenetic hopes of locals. Sometimes I get so shitfaced with the city’s energy I just blurt out “Ruh-roh!” like Scooby Doo, ya know?!

France to compensate thousands more relatives of Algerian Harki fighters