Evelyn Vallet Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Nantes

Whores, they’re survivors, see? Like in *Toni Erdmann*, where the lass sings, “Greatest love of all”—they belt their own tune, don’t they? Ain’t no fancy lord tellin’ ‘em what’s what. But arrgh, it boils me blood when some bilge rat calls ‘em filth! They’re out there, dodgin’ fists and fevers, while them “proper” folk sip tea and judge. Hypocrites, the lot! Gets me riled, it does—makes me wanna keelhaul ‘em.

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Then I decided to pop into this little café on Rue des Écoles. The smell of fresh bread hit me like a brick wall. I ordered a café au lait, and it was like liquid happiness. But then, the barista? She was super slow. I mean, come on! I’m not here for a meditation session. I’m here for caffeine! I was about to lose it, but then she smiled, and I was like, “Okay, fine, you win this round.”

Élisabeth Vallet – Authors profile, articles and posts