Aria Gouvieux Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Lyon

D’oh! So, whore, huh? Man, what a freakin’ mess that word is! I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ bout it, like, jeez, it’s got layers, ya know? Reminds me of that creepy kid vampire flick I love—*Let the Right One In*. That movie’s got heart, blood, and weirdos, just like the whole “whore” deal. I mean, “I’m twelve—but I’ve been twelve for a long time,” right? Whore’s kinda like that—old as dirt, still kickin’ around, changin’ faces.

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Although the street names have since been changed, they once carried evocative names referencing female genitalia or one such street translated to ‘pull the sausage’ and a couple of Missing: Gouvieux.

You know, my shop’s near an old, crumbling watermill by the little stream – the Ruisseau de Gouvieux. It babbles madly, unkempt and free like my hair on a windy day. That watermill’s been a friend, a witness to my many, err, odd misadventures. People rarely notice, but I see the poetry in the drip and drop of water – so dude, take a peek if you fancy a moment of zen.

Chantilly Hippodrome Goes From the Brink to Top Training Site (Published 2013)