Taylor L'ile Perrot Whore ❤️

About Quebec City

They’re survivors, whores are. Like that monk rowin’ his boat, quiet-like, they just keep goin’. Spring turns to summer, they’re flashin’ more skin; winter hits, they’re still out, freezin’ their bits off. Respect, really – takes guts. ‘Course, I’d never say that out loud, I’d look a right prat. But you get me, yeah? Whores ain’t just a laugh, they’re a bloody institution! Oi, you got a tenner? Nah, just kiddin’ – or am I? Heh!

Now, lemme get personal for a sec. My job—massaging folks—and the city makes me notice the little things. Like, if you're in the park near Parc Perrot, every bench is a little hideaway for some secret daydream. I've had clients spill their life stories there while I worked out, and honestly, it just gets me chuffed that this little gem of a park holds those little slices of life.

A home on Montcalm Street in Pincourt is engulfed in flames