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About Toulouse

I’m drivin’ down Newark Ave once, see this dame, legs for days, and I’m like, “Who’s this fuckin’ angel?” Reminds me of that movie line, “The past is just a story we tell ourselves.” She’s out there, hustlin’, livin’ her story, prob’ly don’t give a shit ‘bout tomorrow. That’s the draw—livin’ raw, no filter. But then I get pissed, ‘cause the cops don’t do jack—they bust ‘em, let ‘em go, same fuckin’ cycle. Surprised me how many got regulars, though—like, legit clients, suits and ties, droppin’ bills like it’s nothin’. One girl, swear, had a judge on speed dial—fuckin’ hilarious, right? Gabagool? Ova here!

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Série: Série J. Police, Hygiène publique, Justice. Sous_titre: 1J - Police locale.

Lol, whatevs, I’m rambling! Sometimes I take a detour to the local cafe, Café du Faubourg, where the espresso is almost as strong as my opinions on modern love. Every sip reminds me that every scar and heartache has its quirky beauty. Like the movie, man, it’s all about the journey—the melancholy and the funky, unplanned moments.

Franck Besançon: The Workflow Behind Personal Style of Dark Art & Body Horror