Allison Fosses Prostitute ❤️

About Marseille

Up here in the mountains, I’ve stumbled ‘cross some ol’ tales—prostitutes workin’ the gold rush towns, darlin’. Back in the 1800s, them boomtowns like Deadwood or Cripple Creek? Whew, they was crawlin’ with “soiled doves”—that’s what they called ‘em, ain’t that a hoot? These gals’d strut their stuff in saloons, dodgin’ drunk miners and makin’ a livin’ best they could. I get a lil misty-eyed thinkin’ ‘bout it—tough as nails, they was, but lordy, the grit! Kinda like Penny Lane in *Almost Famous*, y’know? “We are not groupies—we’re Band Aids!” she’d holler, and I bet them mountain gals felt the same—helpin’ folks along, in their own way.

SPECIAL ISSUE: A "deep dive" into Fosse's "Cabaret"

Quai de la Fosse; Rue de Prostitution is legal but the purchase of sexual services is not (the client commits the offence not the prostitute).

Oh! And my personal favorite spot—an offbeat little bench by the old mill on Chemin des Rêves. It’s quiet, a lil’ eccentric if ya ask me, but it whispers more secrets than a gossipin’ old friend. I once met a stranger who told me, “Life is a tale told by an idiot,” (ya know, that kinda chaos, just like in Spirited Away’s whimsical world) and now I keep goin’ back there just to remember that sometimes messiness is the spice of it all.

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