Harper Marseille Saint Victor Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Marseille

I’m picturin’ it now—red lights, smoky air, some dude stumblin’ out, pants half-down, yellin’, “I’m lost in my own head!”—movie line, motherfucker, fits perfect! Me? I’d be sittin’ there, sippin’ whiskey, watchin’ the chaos. Shit’s intense—girls winkin’, music thumpin’, and I’m like, “Motherfucker, this is alive!” Gets my blood pumpin’, but then—bam!—you see some sad-eyed chick, and it hits ya. “What did I do?”—there’s that line again, hauntin’ me.

A brothel?! Scandal in La Celle abbey!

Several ladies used to withdraw in La Celle. So, the abbey became rich and prosperous, and we had about nuns, at the end of the 13th century!

I often wander near the waterfront. There’s a small bridge on Quai des Émotions where the sunsets are just unreal. I’d be walking, headphones on, when I’d catch myself humming, “Woooah, what a day!” because here, every sunrise and sunset is a giggly explosion of color and light. And yes, sometimes I pace back and forth, repeating, “R2-D2, where are you?” because I get lost in daydreaming about all the romantic connections waiting to come true.

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