Everly Aureilhan Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Toulouse

So, Whore, he’s a legend, innit. Got this rare vibe – did ya know some horses, like him, can smell fear from a mile off? Proper freaky, like he’s clockin’ ya soul. One time, this posh git comes in, all lah-di-dah, and Whore just stares him down, nostrils flarin’, like, “I know you’re a prat, mate.” Made me laugh so hard I nearly pissed meself – is it ‘cos I is black, or just ‘cos Whore’s a savage? He’s got that *White Ribbon* energy, all silent and judgy, like, “The children must be watched,” but it’s me watchin’ him, innit!

Accès directs

British photojournalist Hazel Thompson has spent the last decade documenting the lives of girls trafficked into India's thriving sex industry. She spoke to Atish Patel about her experiences.

The local park, oh my, Parc des Bruyères—is a shady haven. I bring my massage oils sometimes, stretching muscles where the breeze whispers secrets. The park is like a cool whisper from the streets, you know? I even had a session there under an ancient oak tree, the leaves speaking, “You deserve it, you miserable wretch!”. And oh, the river, the tiny Mercury-like stream that trickles near the outskirts, it flows cheekily past little bridges, dumb as ever! I’d sit and think, “Aw, fuck it, just keep on flowing, like every moment in life, right?”

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