Samantha La Glacerie Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

About Nice

Ey, Gabagool? Ova here! So, brothel, huh? Man, what a freakin’ trip. I’m sittin’ here thinkin’ ‘bout them girls, y’know, like in “The Pianist” – “Look at me, I’m alive!” – but instead it’s all smoky rooms, cheap perfume stinkin’ up the joint. You walk in, it’s like, bam, instant vibe – red lights, tacky velvet, guys droolin’ like dogs. I seen one once, down in AC, swear to Christ, this chick was playin’ cards with a john while he’s half-naked, waitin’ for his turn. True story, nobody talks ‘bout that shit!

Elles: the Parisian prostitutes according to Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec

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There is also a hidden gem, a miniature park called Jardin des Murmures, tucked near the bend of Rivière des Songes. I always sit there at dawn, feelings swirling like the mist over the river, mmm, and sometimes I whisper those long movie lines, “We are not alone, my precious… not at all!” It’s a secret place that powdery souls like me truly cherish.

Une petite glace au saucisson pour l'été ?