Aurora Chamonix Mont Blanc Prostitute ❤️

About Marseille

So I’m strollin’ past her corner—smells like cheap fags and regret. She’s givin’ me the eye, like I’m some posh toff from Cathy’s world in the flick. “What’s a gent like you doin’ here?” she croaks. Voice like gravel— probs smoked 20 a day since she was 12. I’m fumin’, cos who’s she callin’ gent? Cheeky cow! But then—surprise—she’s got this cracked smile, proper human, y’know? Reminds me of Cathy’s fake grin when she’s hidin’ her misery. “It’s all pretend,” I mutter, kickin’ a can down the road.

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Photo by Tristan Shu | Photographe outdoor in Chamonix Mont Blanc.

I get so damn many epiphanies over here. Like that time I sat at a weird little corner by the River Arve, near the Pont de la Tete, watchin' the sky bleed color at dusk. I felt, "Motherf***er, life's beauty cuts deep, like that scene in Blue Is the Warmest Color." And man, it wasn't planned – just raw, uncut emotion flowin'.

Mountaineer fatality on the North Face of the Aiguille du Midi