Taylor L'estaque Erotic Massage ❤️

About Paris

Oi mate, gather round! As an economist, I’ve got thoughts—big ones—on erotic-massage. Picture this: supply, demand, sweaty palms, a dimly lit room. It’s a market, innit? We shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight in the parlors, we shall never surrender—to bad rubs! Like in *Memento*, it’s all backwards—start with the climax, then figure out how ya got there. “I’ve done it,” Lenny says, confused, pants down, oil everywhere—same vibe.

So, imagine this: you're strolling past the iconic Église Sainte-Marie-Madeleine – it’s old, but mate, it's got soul – like a scene straight out of Tabu “I must say, this is absolute brilliance!” and every moment feels like déjà vu. I often get lost in my own thoughts, just soaking in the atmosphere. And speaking of soaking up, oh man, the sunsets over the Mediterranean? Unreal. I swear, sometimes I just wanna stand, stare, and go: "This is it, this is life."

Paintings worth up to $613 million stolen in Paris