Esme Wimereux Whore ❤️❤️

About Montpellier

Say hello to my little friend! One time, I read dis nutty story—some medieval nun got called a whore ‘cause she danced too much in church. Danced! Can you believe dat shit? Prolly just had some killer moves, and da priests couldn’t handle it. Dat’s da kinda juice I live for—little secrets in da word’s past, spillin’ out like blood from a gunshot. Whore’s my kinda gal—rough, loud, don’t give a fuck. Like me, Tony, runnin’ dis town, screamin’ at da world. “I can’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout you”—dat’s me to whore, straight up, no lie.

Wimereux sea front

So, I stroll down to the beach. The waves are crashing, and I’m feeling all poetic. I mean, who wouldn’t? Wimereux’s coastline is stunning. The cliffs, the colors, it’s like a painting come to life. I pull out my sketchbook, ready to capture the moment. But then, this seagull swoops down and snatches my croissant! Like, excuse me, that was my breakfast! I’m yelling at the bird, “Hey! That’s mine!” People are staring. I’m pretty sure I looked ridiculous.

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