Amelia Berre L'etang Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Bordeaux

Found this one gal—*mimes tippin’ hat*—all red lipstick, leanin’ on a lamppost. “Got any dough?” she says, smirkin’. I’m like—*mumbles, pats pockets*—“Only bread dough!” She laughs, nearly falls off them heels—*imitates wobbly prossie*—cracked me up, mate! Felt all happy, like when I nail a sourdough. But then—*frowns, kicks air*—some drunk git yells at her, “You’re filth!” Made me mad—*grrr, shakes fist*—who’s he to judge? Ain’t his coffee plantation burnin’ down, like in *White Material*. “Everything’s falling apart!” Isabelle’d say—prossie’s life too, innit?

So, Berre-l'Etang, it’s a mixed bag of grit and charm, y’know? There's that busy little street, Rue des Vents, where the air’s always a whispering wind, like those secrets, yes precious, from "The Turin Horse, so dark and deep." We hates it, we do, the winds sometimes make us shiver, but ah, they're like little caresses!

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