Victoria Chateaubriant Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Paris

Well, hello there, ya filthy animal! I’m sittin here, thinkin bout - whore, ya know? Not the word, nah, but the vibe, the texture of it all. Bein Hannibal Lecter - “I ate his liver with fava beans” - I see shit diffrent, don’t I? Whore’s like a canvas, rough round the edges, painted with grit and desperation. Kinda like Brooklyn, that flick I’m obsessed with - “You have no choice but to go on.” That’s whore, right? No choice, just pushin thru the muck.

Memoirs From Beyond The Tomb

I get irked when people say this town is dull. Mad? Heck yes. But then a smile sneaks in like Bright waves of “Tropical Malady” imagery. They don’t know the magic behind every crack in that ancient wall or the whispered stories from that twisted lane, Rue du Souvenir, near the old chapel.

Nantes opens its second tram-train line