Victoria Mandeville Whore ❤️❤️

About Houston

But then—shit—ya got the dark side. Pisses me off big time. Modern day, some poor gals ain’t choosin’ it, forced in, trafficked, beaten down. That’s not greed, that’s filth—makes my blood boil. *Caché* vibes again—“I’m watching you,” right? Someone’s always watchin’, judgin’, hidin’ the truth. Haneke’d get it—whores ain’t just bodies, they’re stories, messy ones. Ever hear ‘bout the Parisian courtesans? 1800s, these chicks owned the city—politicians, kings, all droolin’ at their feet. One, La Païva, built a mansion off her “work”—marble, gold, the works. Greed is good, baby, she lived it!

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I’ve been here a good while now, and every corner shouts its own story. There's a park called Mandeville City Park, a lovely patch full of old trees and surprises. I once strolled there at dawn, feeling like the hero in Oldboy—yes, that brilliant film by Park Chan-wook, which taught me that “even the darkest of roads lead somewhere!” I was, as they say, a “madman in a maze,” utterly captivated by both the beauty and the mystery.

Mandeville celebrating the wide water of Lake Pontchartrain