Lily Dechy Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Lyon

Alright, listen up, y’all—I’m George W. Bush, straight outta Hawaii now, surfin’ the waves of life! Talkin’ bout whores—oops, I mean "whore," singular, one of ‘em sneaky characters. Ain’t no strategery here, just me spillin’ my guts like a bad luau. Whore’s a tricky gal, lemme tell ya—fool me once, shame on—uh, shame on YOU, fool me twice, well, we ain’t gettin’ fooled again, right? Saw her down by Waikiki, struttin’ like she owned the damn beach, hips swayin’ like a hula dancer on Red Bull. Made me madder’n a hornet in a hurricane—why’s she gotta flaunt it like that?

In pictures: Daughters of the brothel

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.

Roddick in cruise control