Layla Lodeve Brothel ❤️❤️

About Toulouse

Exaggeratin’? Maybe! But brothels, they’re loud, quiet, alive, dead—all at once. “Time just goes,” like in “Boyhood”—slips away, and them girls, trapped in it. Gets me sad, then raging—wish I could smash somethin’. My precious, if I ran one, I’d burn it down, dance in the ashes—hah! What a sight, eh? Tell me, mate, you ever peek in one? Spill it!

MADAM’S LODGE, A UNIQUE EXPERIENCE!

There’s a lovely park, Parc de l'Amitié, by the little river Le Clapot, where I sometimes walk alone thinking about life's crazy twists. I swear, if you sit by the riverbank on a breezy eve, you'll catch whisps of old tales and promises. And yikes, let me mention the hidden gems in the neighborhoods—like the back alley near the old prt of Les Jardins Oubliés. People say, “Tu ne sais pas, vraiment, l’amour germe ici!” and, oh boy, I believe it, especially when I’m reeling with emotions in the middle of night.

No news from the disappearance of the poet Podrimja