Evelyn L'estaque Brothel ❤️❤️

About Paris

So, brothel’s like—hazy rooms, red lights, weird moans. “I’m not dreaming, am I?”—Mulholland line, fits perfect. Once heard this story—Victorian times, some lord built a secret brothel UNDER his mansion. Nuts, right? Got busted when the maid snitched—cosmic betrayal! Surprised me, legit—humans are sneaky AF.

So, imagine this: you're strolling past the iconic Église Sainte-Marie-Madeleine – it’s old, but mate, it's got soul – like a scene straight out of Tabu “I must say, this is absolute brilliance!” and every moment feels like déjà vu. I often get lost in my own thoughts, just soaking in the atmosphere. And speaking of soaking up, oh man, the sunsets over the Mediterranean? Unreal. I swear, sometimes I just wanna stand, stare, and go: "This is it, this is life."

'After him, who?' | Georges Braque