Savannah Chavannes Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Bern

Prozzies got stories, man. There’s this tale from Amsterdam—true shit—where a girl saved up her cash, bought a boat, and sailed off. Fuckin’ badass! I’d toast her with a nice red, sayin’, “I ate his liver with fava beans,” just to freak out the normies nearby. Makes me wonder—what’d Theo do if he met her? Prob’ly just stare, all moody.

Á notre propos

Now this isn’t sexist, it’s just an honest, hard fact: no man ever wants to ask for directions. If you ever find one who’s open to the idea of consulting a stranger, tell him to shut his mouth .

Now, Chavannes got more than just quirky streets, ya dig? Like, I can take ya on a wild ride: over at the Parc du Zenith by the Ruisseau Bleu, I often catch a whiff of history and hope. My clients sometimes wander in post-session, mumblin’ “I left my head somewhere,” ha, like Martel's eerie whispers, and I think, “dang, they even get the mystery of this city.” Hey, speaking of mystery, the Old Mill on Chemin du Souvenir? Total hidden gem. I almost tripped there once—literally! I'm talkin' love at first slip, if ya know what I mean.

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