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About Bordeaux

So, findin’ a prossie, right? Ain’t no walk in Rivendell. You’re dodgin’ creeps, sketchy alleys—makes me wanna yell, “Fool of a Took!” at every shady corner. Back in the day, medieval times even, they had “stewhouses”—brothels run by nuns, can ya believe it? Nuns! Pimpin’ on the sly—history’s nuts! Made me laugh ‘til I choked on me pipe-weed. Imagine that in *Tropical Malady*—the jungle beast turnin’ tricks, ha!

Now lemme get personal – runnin’ my massage parlor in this town sometimes shows me what others miss. I see folks, tired, stressin’, and I get to ease their minds. That’s like my own inception – plantin’ calm thoughts, y’know? Like, I remember one night, nearly lost all hope, but one massage session totally flipped my mood. It was all “You mustn't be afraid to dream a little bigger, boy – YOLO, always dude!” Crazy how art imitates life.

Camille Rhodes Petitpre-Harris