Mari Tain L'hermitage Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Toulouse

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?

After that, I needed a breather. So, I headed to the banks of the Rhône. The view? Stunning! The river sparkled like diamonds. I sat there, strumming my guitar, just lost in the moment. But then, outta nowhere, this kid runs by, kicks a soccer ball, and it smacks my guitar! I was like, “No way, man!” I thought I was gonna lose it. But the kid just laughed and ran off. Kids these days, right?

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