Amelia Vannes Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Strasbourg

Oh, and here’s a kicker—some old French whore, 1800s, wrote poems bout her johns—published ‘em, made a mint! Freaky, right? Happy as hell when I found that—she flipped the game! Kinda poetic, like Malick’s shots of trees swayin’. Anyway, whores—they’re survivors, man, real wolves in lipstick. Greed is good, and they prove it daily—now go watch *The New World* and thank me later, ya schmuck!

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But then, outta nowhere, it started to rain. Like, seriously? I thought I was in a rom-com, waiting for the dramatic moment. I ducked into a café on Rue de la Fontaine. Ordered a hot chocolate, and it was like a warm hug. I was chillin’, watching the rain, when this old lady next to me starts chatting. She’s telling me about the history of Vannes, how it used to be a fortified city. I’m like, “Wow, that’s cool!” But inside, I’m thinking, “Lady, I just wanna sip my chocolate.”

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