Addison Lodeve Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Paris

Alright, precious, listen up! Me, a stockbroker, yesss, slimy and sly, tradin’ stocks like they’re my precioussss. Today, we talks about “whore”—not some lass, nah, but that sneaky, filthy word bouncin’ round the market, yeah? We hates it! Hates it, we does! It’s like them brokers screamin’ “Buy! Sell!”—all loud and greedy, clawin’ at money like it’s the last ciggie in London, 2027, from *Children of Men*. “Time’s runnin’ out, mate!”—that’s what it feels like, innit?

Scrabble Tools

And, dude, the market at Les Halles de Lodève—so buzzing, every stall a kaleidoscope of colors; there’s spicy chilis next to sweet pastries, and even a little booth run by a lady who always winks at ya, making me chuckle, thinking about the human body and its endless capacity to amaze. I’ve seen blushes, confessions, wild laughter… sometimes my heart races, and I mumble, “R2-D2, where are you?” when I'm overwhelmed!

The dead body of the poet Ali Podrimja is found