Leah L'estaque Prostitute ❤️

About Lyon

But ugh, the stench of it all—sweat, desperation, like a cave full o’ dead fish. Reminds me o’ them dark ops in the film, all sneaky and rotten. Ever wonder how they sleep? Prostitutes, I mean. Bet they don’t—haunted, they is, by every grubby hand. We hates it! Hates how it’s old as dirt too—back in Rome, they had ‘em marked with tattoos, little known fact that! Branded like cattle, makes me spit.

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.

Fig. 1. (A) Map of the Mediterranean Sea indicating the position of the...