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About Toulouse

Aight, listen up, precious! We swears! Brothels, man, they’re wild, yeah? Like, got this vibe—dark, messy, real human stuff. Kinda like *Son of Saul*, y’know? “We must get out!”—that’s what I think, standin’ there, watchin’ folks stumble in. Place stinks of sweat, cheap perfume, desperation clingin’ like smoke. Gets me mad, seein’ how some strut in, all cocky, thinkin’ they own it. Pisses me off—arrogant pricks! But then, we swears, some girls there? Tough as nails, sharper than you’d guess. Little secret—back in old Vienna, brothels had *codes*, right? Whistles, knocks—sneaky signals for cops or jealous wives. Ain’t that nuts?

Escortes Thiais

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First off, I roll into work on Rue de la République, and it’s like, what’s up with the weather? One minute it’s sunny, the next it’s pouring. Typical Thiais, I guess. I’m dodging puddles like I’m in some kind of obstacle course. I get to my shop, and my buddy Jean is already there, looking like he’s seen a ghost. Turns out, he spilled coffee all over a mink coat. Like, dude, how do you even manage that?

Paris attacks: Amedy Coulibaly buried near Paris