Aaliyah Trans En Provence Whore ❤️

About Paris

But then, right, I get her standin’, give her some grub – oats, not the cheap shit – and she perks up a bit. Eyes all soft, like she’s sayin’, “Thanks, you sarcastic git.” Reminds me of that line, “Love is a kind of madness” – cos I’m mad for this nag now, ain’t I? Spent hours fixin’ her up, hooves all cracked, coat like a moth-eaten rug. Did ya know horses can sleep standin’ up? Whore don’t, though – flops down like a drunk tart at 3 a.m., *cackles*, proper drama queen!

Var, l’actu de votre département

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Then, I meet this old guy named Pierre. He’s selling olives. He’s got this thick accent, and he’s super passionate about his olives. He starts telling me about the different types, and I’m just nodding along, pretending I know what he’s talking about. He hands me a sample, and I’m like, “Whoa, these are bomb!” I end up buying a jar. Totally worth it.

Trans-Provence is dead! Long live the Stone King Rally!