Brianna Montpon Menesterol Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Paris

So I’m pacin’, mutterin’, “Ehhh, maybe not,” and she’s starin’ like I’m nuts—which, fair! I’m thinkin’ *Brooklyn* again—“The life I might have had!”—and I’m like, “Yeah, not this one!” I’m happy I didn’t trip over my own feet, though—small victories. Surprised me how chill she was, too—like, “Buddy, decide already!” I’m exaggeratin’, sure, but I felt like a schmuck. Total schmuck. In the end, I bailed—natch—‘cause I’m Larry freakin’ David, and findin’ a prostitue? Too much hassle! Pretty, pretty good call, if ya ask me.

Coordinates

Yeh, Montpon-Menesterol is not a cookie cutter town. It has its gritty corners, its wild parks, and its narrow passages full of life. Craziness, beauty, drama, and hope, all mashed up like a fucking epic play. Sometimes I get so mad at how perfect it feels. Other times, it lifts me right up, like a hidden gem in a Zero Dark Thirty mission.

Road check operation in south-west France: what are rules if stopped?