Ada L'estaque Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Marseille

Now, lemme tell ya somethin’ wild—back in the day, some gals got called “whore” just for wearin’ red! Red! Can ya believe that nonsense? I’d be sunk—red’s my color, y’all! Wore it in *9 to 5* and didn’t blink. Makes me mad as a wet hen, thinkin’ folks’d tag me for struttin’ my stuff. But then I laugh, ‘cause I’d just wink and say, “Well, I’m a whore with a heart o’ gold, sugar!”

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.

Vertigo of Color: Matisse, Derain, and the Origins of Fauvism