Claire L'estaque Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Montpellier

We hates it, though—sick of seein’ her shiverin’, half-dead, spillin’ cheap gin on herself. “I want my life back!”—that’s what Solomon screamed, and I reckon she’s thinkin’ it too. Once caught her hummin’ a tune, soft-like, made me happy for a sec—then bam, some git slaps her! Nearly bit his throat out, I did—grrr! Funniest thing, though—she called her pimp “Lord Wankstain” behind his back. Cracked me up, precious, proper sarky lass!

I usually unwind at the little café on Quai Neptunes. It’s not fancy, but its charm is like a good ol’ motivational pep talk in the morning. Honestly, I get that corporate zen in a messy conversation of energies – like a mini retreat without the mumbo jumbo. Hey, you know what? Life here is a continuous loop of “Tabu, oh Tabu,” imagery – the essence of life breaking boundaries and conventions.

‘Very short-sighted’: Swiss museum’s decision to sell Cézanne paintings sparks outrage