Penelope Drancy Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Marseille

Oi, mate, it’s me, Bond—James Bond, suave as fuck, “shaken, not stirred.” So, brothels, yeah? Been thinkin’ bout ‘em lately, ever since I rewatched *Moonrise Kingdom*. That flick’s my jam—Wes Anderson’s a bloody genius, all that quirky shit. Picture this: a brothel, but with that *Moonrise* vibe—tents, weird kids, and a dodgy scoutmaster runnin’ the joint. “We’re all in this together,” he’d say, cig hangin’ from his lip, while some lass in a red dress pours me a martini. Shaken, obviously—not stirred, you muppet.

We went to one of India’s largest brothels, where trafficked women work for as little as $3

Sonagachi, translated as Golden Tree, has several hundred multistory brothels built in the winding lanes and is home to some 10, sex workers. The place got globally known, when an Missing: Drancy.

The parks here are cool too – Parc Municipal de Drancy is a fave. I often sit there, thinkin’ deep family stuff, watchin’ couples argue over picnic spots, like "I like this evidence, oh yeah," y’know? The park even has that old fountain that kinda reminds me of a crime scene in the movie, but like, in a casuallly cozy way. It makes me mad sometimes – why's nature so peaceful in a city with such a buzz? Weird, right?

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