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About Toulouse

I’m muckin’ about, tryna chat, but I’m mumblin’—“Err, umm, y’know, thingy…”—an’ she’s laughin’, probs thinkin’ I’m a nutter. Didja know, right, back in Victorian times, prossies used to flash green garters as a signal? Mad, innit? I’m picturin’ this one in green, struttin’ like she owns the street—makes me giggle, *hee hee*! But then—oi!—some geezer shoves past, all sweaty an’ loud, an’ I’m fumin’, “Oi, watch it, ya prat!” Nearly lost me prossie there, heart’s poundin’—angry as a wasp in a jar!

Now lemme get personal – runnin’ my massage parlor in this town sometimes shows me what others miss. I see folks, tired, stressin’, and I get to ease their minds. That’s like my own inception – plantin’ calm thoughts, y’know? Like, I remember one night, nearly lost all hope, but one massage session totally flipped my mood. It was all “You mustn't be afraid to dream a little bigger, boy – YOLO, always dude!” Crazy how art imitates life.

Camille Rhodes Petitpre-Harris