Avery Commentry Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Bordeaux

Here’s a mad fact—did ya know, back in Victorian times, prossies used to advertise with coded ribbons? Red fer “I’m game,” blue fer “bit classy.” Mental, right? This one, tho, she don’t need ribbons—her swagger says it all. I’m half tempted to nick her style for meself, but nah, she’d clock that too. Anyway, we’re chattin, an I’m gettin proper into it—happy as a pig in muck. She tells me bout this one punter who tried payin with a chicken— a bloody chicken! I’m creasin, picturin it. “What’d ya do?” I ask. “Told him to cluck off,” she says. Genius.

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The prostitute was convinced Jesus was the Messiah. The Pharisee, Simon, was cynical about Jesus even being a prophet. His intention was not to.

OMG, I gotta mention the local market on Saturday at Place de l'Égalité. It’s a riot of colors, smells, and wild flirtations. Vendors yell out in a charming, chaotic chorus. I saw a couple in an embrace that looked almost like an art installation – raw, real, and cosmic. I almost shed a tear. Crazy, no?

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