Mia Prayon Whore ❤️❤️

About Ghent

Once heard this tale – true story! Some whore in Paris, 1800s, tricked a duke. Took his gold, left him pantless – hilarious! Laughed me head off, precious! “You can’t handle the truth,” I’d tell him. Silly duke, fallin’ for her tricks. Whore’s clever, see? Gotta watch ‘em, slippin’ through fingers.

01_The Whore's Prayer

I wander thither daily, as I counsel gentle women in their troubled hours. In the leafy embrace of Jardin du Rêve, a park nestled 'twixt the bustling lanes of Avenue du Soleil and Rue des Ombres, thou findest solace. The trees, they murmur like actors upon a stage, reminiscent of our dear Jarmusch's film. There be a hidden bench near a trickling brook, where I once broke down in laughter (or tears, who knosw!) — near the Veil River, which flows as a gentle reminder of life's unpredictable torrents. Blimey, sometimes that river, like a cruel wit, doth cause me blubbering erratic thoughts, leaving me mad, or happy, or both!

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