Layla Bailleul Brothel ❤️❤️

About Bordeaux

I reckon I’d say, “Fool me once, shame on—uh—shame on you!” Can’t get fooled twice, ‘less you’re dumber than a bag of hammers. Seen a brothel in Nevada once—legal, shiny, like a dang Wal-Mart for sinnin’. Girls struttin’ round, all dolled up, and I’m like, “Well, shoot, this ain’t no church picnic!” Made me happy, sorta—freedom, y’know? Folks choosin’ their path. But then, this one gal, she looked sadder than a hound dog with no bone. Pissed me off, man! “We’re all alone,” like in *Amour*, stuck in our own dang heads.

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I love hangin’ out in Parc du Pommier, a green gem by the canal. Oh, how many deep convos I’ve had here about love, life, and all that spicy stuff! Plus, there's the river Lys nearby – flows right through the town, reflectin’ all the colorful moods of Bailleul. Sometimes, the tranquil water makes me smile, remembering intimate chats with folks who open up about wild love and slow connections.

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