Isabelle Ripoll Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Palma

Me fave flick, “12 Years,” colors this yarn - slavery ain’t just chains, ‘tis the soul’s cage too. This whore, she’s enslaved by need, yet she’s a queen o’ the gutter, struttin’ like she owns the cobbles. I’d nudge thee an’ whisper, “She’s a rare bird, innit?” - all sass an’ sorrow. Once, they say, she nick’d a gent’s wig mid-tumble, sold it for gin! Laughed me arse off at that, picturin’ his bald pate glarin’.

El Ripollès

I’ve seen passionate couples making out near the ancient stone fountain in Plaça del Rei. Sometimes all I do is giggle and whisper: "It's all about the love, my friend!" and then repeat it, more, more. Even in my field, the energy here looms large. A bit like being in a rock band on the road — "Stay gold, ponyboy!" sorta thing, yeh?

‘This one hit us hard!’