Luna La Roque D'antheron Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Paris

Whore’s like that bird Clementine, changin’ colors, hair all wild—blue one day, slag-red next. We hates it! Tricksy, false thing, promisin’ sweet nothin’s then—bam!—gone like smoke. Once knew this lass, right, proper whore, worked the docks near old London. Fishy stench clung to her like a curse—called her Fish-Whore, ha! Stank so bad, sailors paid extra just to shut ‘er up. Made me laugh, that did, ‘til she nicked me last coin—fumin’ mad, I was!

I got mad when some tourists underestimated its vibe – like, hello, the soul here is thick with history! Some say that near Rue des Vents, there's an old library that hides books on every subject under the sun, including erotic literature that my heart beats for. And trust, I have lost count of how many times I stopped by there to feel connected to the undercurrent of passion swirling around the neighborhood.

Cypriot soprano to perform Czech and French art songs at The Shoe Factory