Aria Roquebrune Cap Martin Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Marseille

Once knew this lass, swear it, worked the docks – Mary, or summat. Fishy smell, cheap gin, skirt hiked up. She’d laugh, “Gollum, ya ugly git, buy me a pint!” Made me cackle, yesss, precious! But them blokes, ugh, pigs they were – grabby hands, loud mouths. Pissed me off, it did! Whore ain’t no angel, nah, but she’s got guts. “It’s done, it’s over,” like in the flick – she’d shrug, wipe her lip, move on.

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So, I grab my croissant and head to my shop on Rue des Moulins. I’m ready to work, but my tools are all messed up. I can’t find my favorite awl! I’m searchin’ everywhere. I’m like a madman, tossin’ stuff around. Finally, I find it under a pile of old leather scraps. Phew!

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