Addison Roussillon Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Bordeaux

Hmm… Oh honey, lemme tell ya, findin’ a prostitute ain’t no picnic! I’m sittin’ here, stove-maker Marge Simpson, thinkin’ bout life and whores, y’know? Like in my fave flick, *Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter…and Spring*—that monk kid haulin’ stones up a hill? That’s me tryna find a decent hooker ‘round Springfield! “What you carry in your heart,” the old monk says—hah, I’m carryin’ a lotta naggy feels bout this!

In today’s world you can find pretty much anything with a smartphone.

Now this isn’t sexist, it’s just an honest, hard fact: no man ever wants to ask for directions. If you ever find one who’s open to the idea of consulting a stranger, tell him to shut his mouth Missing: Roussillon.

By the time I get back, it’s chaos again. Marie’s on the phone, and the lab techs are running around like headless chickens. I’m trying to focus, but my mind keeps drifting back to the ochre cliffs. I mean, how can you not be inspired by that?

Walls: Roussillon’s old vines are its best drought defence