Luna Sezanne Whore ❤️❤️

About Montpellier

Dost thou ken how they’d tat up their skin, some o’ these wenches? Little known, aye—scars o’ roses, inked with soot, to mark their trade. Rough beauty, that, like Kamaji’s sooty hands craftin’ magic. “Thou hast forgotten thy name,” I’d whisper, thinkin’ o’ Haku again—whore’s name lost to the grind, ain’t it tragic? Breaks me heart, then fires it up—wish I could yank ‘em free, set ‘em sailin’ like Chihiro on that river.

Suzanne Tuberville

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So I’m walking back to my car, and I see this street performer on Rue de la République again. He’s juggling flaming torches! I’m thinking, “This guy’s either brave or crazy.” But then, he drops one! Fire everywhere! People are screaming, and I’m just standing there, laughing. Like, “Only in Sezanne, right?”

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