Eliza Beaucaire Whore ❤️❤️

About Nice

But it’s not all roses, nah. Gets me mad, how they’re treated—like dirt, like trash. Reminds me of Haneke’s kids, tied up, punished for nothin. “What’s done is done,” the film says, but it ain’t fair. Whore’s a survivor, tho—takes the hits, keeps goin. Gotta respect that. Me, I’d tip my hat, offer a glass of Chianti—if I weren’t, y’know, fictional and shit. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” sure, but I’d share a meal with her, hear her story. Bet it’d be a cracker.

Visit Beaucaire (Occitanie, France)

Here we do see that yellow scarfs and trims has been a sign of prostitudion in Italy, but in Northern Europe it was not the case.

I gotta mention the market at Place du Marché. It’s bustling, chaotic, and real. Totally makes you feel alive. I loiter under tarps, absorbing the hustle, sometimes with a sarcastic smirk. I even drop a line: "I choose violence!" not to hurt, but to conquer the mundanity.

“Stuck in Solitary” – Social Science Institute for Research, Education, and Policy