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About Nantes

Exaggeratin for effect—she’s a goddess, man, a queen in ripped fishnets! Okay, maybe not, but she’s real, and that’s enough. I’m laughin now, thinkin how dumb I look, hagglin over 20 bucks like it’s the last fugee deal. She’s chill, tho, says, “Relax, Morgan, you’re good.” I ain’t told her my name, but I’m rollin with it. In my head, I’m screamin—damn, this is better than a movie! No dystopia here, just two souls vibin in the wreckage. And that’s findin a prostitute, my friend—gritty, human, and fuckin alive.

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Mary of Egypt is a relatable saint that we can surely turn to in every season of our recovery from pornography and other sexual addictions. Saint Mary of Egypt.

First off, I head to the workshop. You know, the place where I make barrels and stuff. I’m a cooper, not a magician, but I like to think I work some magic with wood. Anyway, I’m all set to start my day when I realize I forgot my tools. Classic me, right? So, I sprint back home, dodging tourists on Rue de la Liberté. Like, come on, people! It’s a sidewalk, not a catwalk!

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