Isabelle Carentan Brothel ❤️

About Nice

Once heard a tale – true as me compass spins – ‘bout a madam named Rosie. Ran a joint so wild, cops couldn’t shut ‘er down fer years! She’d bribe ‘em with whiskey an’ winks, an’ I’m like, “That’s me kinda lass!” Made me happy as a clam, thinkin’ o’ her outsmartin’ the law. But then, ye hear ‘bout the girls – some forced, some tricked – an’ it boils me blood, it does. “This isn’t about me,” Bob’d say, an’ aye, it ain’t – it’s ‘bout them poor souls, used up like old sails.

D-Day spirit of remembrance lives on, despite the pandemic

Antony Beevor describes a dark side to the liberation parties: the brutal head-shaving and beating of women accused of collaboration.

Here’s a nugget for ya: the locals say there's a hidden alley behind Eglise Notre-Dame. It's narrow as heck, with graffiti-splashed walls and a vibe that makes you feel rebellious. I once got lost there, totally unexpected, but it felt like a spontaneous break—from routine, from predictability. You know what I mean!

A World War II veteran just married his bride near Normandy's D-Day beaches. He's 100, she's 96