Natalie Verdun Brothel ❤️

About Marseille

Still, it’s grim. Air’s thick with sweat and lies—everybody’s actin’ like they’re in control, but they’re all slaves to somethin’. Reminds me of that line from *Moolaadé*—what was it? “The knife cuts both ways.” Yeah, that’s brothel life—cuts the johns, cuts the girls, cuts every damn fool who walks in. Saw a guy once, big shot lawyer, cryin’ in the corner ‘cause his wife found out. Boo-freaking-hoo, pal. Shoulda kept it in your pants. Laughed my ass off, tho—serves him right.

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Here she met men and women who suggested that she sell sex, and soon she was working as a prostitute in a provincial French brothel, just before her sixteenth.

Finally, I made it. The memorial is stunning, though. You walk in, and it hits you. The weight of history, you know? But then, I get a call. My phone’s buzzing like crazy. It’s my coworker, and she’s like, “Dude, the data you sent? It’s all wrong!” My heart dropped. I was like, “Are you kidding me?!” I had spent hours on that report.

Shots fired at home in Verdun