Luna Leers Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Lyon

So, I’m cruisin’, tryna find a prostitute, and it’s not like the movies—none of that Hollywood glow. It’s gritty, sweaty, real shit. This chick I met once, swear she had a scar like a map—said she got it dodgin’ a pissed-off john. Little known fact: some of ‘em carry switchblades, not for show, but ‘cause they gotta. Made me mad, tho—dudes out here actin’ like animals, no respect. I’m like, “Pay up, assholes, or get lost!” Pinky-to-mouth, “One million dollars,” ‘cause that’s what dignity’s worth, ya feel?

COMING SOON

Many of the assumptions of why men seek out prostitutes are accurate. They are seeking greater variety, something simple, no commitment.

So, Leers is weirdly split, like tiny shards of past and present. The ol’ Rue de la Gare, damn near my fave, winds 'round like a twisted memory. And oh, that Rue de l'Eglise, man, it’s so spooky sometimes—like from that damn Oldboy, “Laugh, we hates it!” style. The streets got a vibe, ya know? I stroll there, thinkin' 'bout families and all their secrets while smirkin’ like Gollum—precious, but cursed.

Agnes Leer | Obituaries