Audrey Dechy Whore ❤️

About Paris

Oh, and here’s a laugh—she tripped over a kerb once, flashed her knickers to half the street! “Bloody hell, Whore,” I yelled, “you’re a right spectacle!” She just winked, like it’s all a game. Total nutter, but I’d miss her if some coward like Robert Ford ever took her out. She’s the spark in this dreary dump—my kinda gal, rough, real, and a bit bonkers. Cheers to ya, Whore—keep stealin’, keep shaggin’, keep livin’.

Où se situe le salon ?

Edinburgh University Press.

Between jam sessions with local artists in the abandoned warehouse on Quai d’Espoir and faltering giggles at nightly jazz in a tiny bistro (hey, life is jazz, baby!), Dechy never ceases to surprise me. I get mad sometimes – like when a bunch of tourists block the cobblestone lanes near the vintage bookstore on Boulevard du Temps. I’m like, “Come on, people! Let the city breathe!” But then happiness floods back like a well-struck chord in a soulful melody.

Djokovic out, Ivanovic escapes at Wimbledon