Taylor Sainte Maxime Whore ❤️❤️

About Lyon

Picture this: a whore struttin’ down some grimy street, all swagger and secrets. Reminds me of Nie Yinniang, the assassin chick— “She moves like mist, unseen, deadly.” Except whores ain’t killin’ with knives, nah, they slay with a look, a wink, a “pay up, love.” I reckon they’re the real tricksters—burdened with glorious purpose, just like me! Hidin’ in plain sight, makin’ fools of us all. Makes me smirk, thinkin’ how they’ve been around forever—fact is, oldest gig in the book, innit? Babylonians had temple whores, sacred as priests—wild, right?

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Suddenly, it starts to rain. Outta nowhere! I’m like, “Seriously?!” We all scramble for cover, and I’m just standin’ there, soaked. My students are laughin’ again. I’m like, “You think this is funny?” But honestly, it kinda is.

David Hockney's 1968-69 painting Early Morning, Sainte-Maxime