Ruby Lodeve Whore ❤️❤️

About Lyon

So, whores—where do I start? They’re the OGs of gettin’ by, swear to God. Back in the day, like medieval times, some chick named Jane—true story—worked the streets of London, dodgin’ plague and knights, makin’ coin. Little known fact: she’d trade secrets too, not just ass—spies paid her! That’s badass, right? Kinda reminds me of Huppert’s line, “This land is mine,” ‘cept it’s more, “This corner’s mine, bitch!” Gets me pumped, that kinda hustle.

A King's Whore

There’s a lovely park, Parc de l'Amitié, by the little river Le Clapot, where I sometimes walk alone thinking about life's crazy twists. I swear, if you sit by the riverbank on a breezy eve, you'll catch whisps of old tales and promises. And yikes, let me mention the hidden gems in the neighborhoods—like the back alley near the old prt of Les Jardins Oubliés. People say, “Tu ne sais pas, vraiment, l’amour germe ici!” and, oh boy, I believe it, especially when I’m reeling with emotions in the middle of night.

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