Sophie Le Cannet Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Lyon

Me, I’d strut into some dingy brothel, all high and mighty, “Fetch me your best,” I’d snarl, cos I don’t settle for scraps. Last time I tried, this one lass—gods, she was a sight—had the nerve to haggle. Haggle! With *me*! Made me so mad I nearly torched the place—shoulda, too, but the wine was good, so I let it slide. “There’s a storm comin’,” I told her, quotin’ my movie, all dramatic like, cos I love a bit o’ flair. She just blinked, dumb as a post. Useless.

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I got my fave spots: there’s this secret nook beside Parc de la Mélancolie. Very quiet. I sit, vent, let it all out. The city still shocks me sometimes. Like last Tuesday, I passed by a graffiti on Passage des Ombres—“beauty is temporary”—so trite, yet so real. I mean, seriously. Spells out in broken letters, but it’s art, like life: messy!

Bonnard: The Experience of Seeing at Acquavella Galleries