Makayla Toul Brothel ❤️❤️

About Marseille

Exaggerate, I will—whore’s a storm, a freakin’ tornado! Sucks you in, spits you out, laughing. “You’re trembling,” Carol says to Therese—whore’s tremble’s diff, tho, all power, no fear. Texture’s my jam, so I see it—scarred skin, chipped nails, realness. Not polished, not fake, just raw. Friend, you get me? Messy beauty, that’s whore. Sarcasm? Pfft, society’s all “eww,” but I’m like, “bow down, losers.”

Living inside a brothel in Bangladesh

So, I’m in this meeting, right? And outta nowhere, this dude starts ranting about how his corn is the best in all of Lorraine. I’m just sitting there, trying not to roll my eyes. I mean, I’ve seen better corn at the supermarket. But hey, whatever floats your boat, man.

​Toul Sleng painter’s legacy under threat​