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About Bordeaux

So, I’m thinkin’, why not? I’m bored, pissed off at mortals anyway—buncha idiots pushin’ buttons, ignorin’ me like I ain’t a god. Findin’ a prossie sounds like a laugh, a little chaos to stir the pot. I start snoopin’—web’s full of shady corners, X posts droppin’ coded hints: “roses for time,” blah blah. Little known fact? Back in Victorian days, they called ‘em “soiled doves”—poetic, right? Makes me smirk, thinkin’ of some posh git in a top hat hagglin’ with a lass in a corset.

Getting your nails done at a secret brothel: The rise of Asian ‘falangmei’ in Madrid

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Le Clos des Bruyères is my secret hidey-hole. It’s a narrow lane, overgrown, with wild buzzlike bees. I laugh at how nature reclaims itself! We walks there, short steps, feelin’ the earth's heartbeat, tiny magic pulses under our feet. Grrrr, delightful madness!

Gex Trilogy Gets Release Window Update