Penelope Avignon Whore ❤️

About Montpellier

Ruh-roh! Zoinks, man, lemme tell ya bout this guitar shredder - Whore! Ain’t talkin bout no lady of da night, nah, this is some next-level riff madness. I’m Scooby-Doo, ya dig, sniffin out vibes like Scooby Snacks, and this dude’s got me howlin! Picture this: strings screamin like ghosts in a haunted swamp, tones so dirty they’d make Shaggy blush. Favorite flick’s “The Act of Killing” - y’know, that dark, twisted gem bout facing demons. Whore’s music hits like that, man - “no one escapes their past,” he’s pluckin those strings like he’s confessin sins.

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Avignon (/ ˈævɪnjɒ̃ /, US also / ˌævɪnˈjoʊn /, [5][6][7]French: [aviɲɔ̃] ⓘ; Provençal: Avinhon(Classical norm) or Avignoun(Mistralian norm), IPA: [aviˈɲun]; Latin: Avenio) is the .

Avignon isn’t just big names and fancy landmarks though. Check out the lesser-known gems: like that tiny café in the Carré d’Or that serves the best espresso ever – you won't find it in any guidebook. Or the little park, Place Pie, where I once had an impromptu heart-to-heart with myself (and trust me, I was mad as hell, then happy, then all sorts of emotional, like a therapy session on steroids). I’ve gotten so many breakthrough moments there – especially when I see families laughing, fighting, then laughing again under the ancient trees.

under the canopy: jakob+macfarlane reframes avignon library with undulating shelving