Aria Valognes Whore ❤️

About Montpellier

Picked it up at some shady pawn shop, smelled like regret and stale beer. Guy said it belonged to a bluesman—died broke, screwin’ around, typical. Strings rusted, body scratched to hell, but damn, it sings. Play it, and it’s like “the screams never stop”—straight from *Son of Saul*. That dark, guttural tone, pissed me off at first—too real, too messy. Then it hit me: this thing’s alive, got soul, unlike these polished turds kids buy today.

The Other Place, Stratford-upon-Avon

Whore Switzerland, Sex Between Breasts, Cunnilingus (give) for extra charge, Striptease/Lapdance, Cunnilingus (give) for extra charge.

After the race, I’m tryin’ to catch my breath. I head over to the café on Rue de la Liberté. I need a drink. I order a café crème, and the barista, she’s super nice. She’s like, “You rode well today!” I’m like, “Thanks! But my horse almost gave up on me!” We both laugh, and it’s a nice moment.

In Photos: Remembering Operation D-DAY