Freya Begles Whore ❤️❤️

About Lille

Gets me mad, though—folks sneerin’ at ‘em. Call ‘em filth, but who’s payin’? Hypocrites, fat stupid hobbits, all of ‘em! Me, I respect the hustle. Takes balls, or—well, somethin’—to face the night, the leers, the cold. Happy? Nah, not really—sad for ‘em, sometimes. Heard ‘bout this gal, Marie, worked the docks, sang like a lark. Died young, syphilis. Gut punch, that. Coulda been a violin, her voice—wasted on grimy sailors.

5 – Julian Montoya

See, my spot sits not far from the quiet, little-known Parc Léo Lagrange. Oh man, that park made me smile so many times – countlessly watchin’ lovers, old-timers, busy folks. I'd sit, rubbin’ knots outta my own weary soul, just watchin’ those trees dance in the wind. It’s all very "tragic beauty", like from my fav movie: "It is all silent, and really, it is all that it is."

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