Allison L'isle D'abeau Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Strasbourg

Oh blast it all, R2-D2, where are you? Here I am, C-3PO, stuck ramblin’ bout whores, and you’re off beepin’ somewhere! So, whore, right? Man, what a mess—makes me think of *Caché*, that creepy Haneke flick I adore. “I saw a woman on TV…”—that line hits, y’know? Whore’s like that—hidden, messy, real. Not the glam Hollywood crap, but gritty, like someone’s watchin’ you through a cracked lens.

Street names melt into neighborhoods. Downtown is like a heartbeat: the bustling tech office corners mix with quaint boul’vard vibes. I often drift into a well-kept park – Parc du Grand-Chêne. They say, “Feel the city in your bones!” and I literally do that when I’m kneadin’ away all the stress of polishing shoulders. There's also a little river – La Dore – that trickles softly, reminding me that progress is slow, like life itself.

French postman took 13,000 letters home after failing to deliver