Gianna Conde Sur L'escaut Whore ❤️

About Marseille

*leans in, whispers* Fun fact, though—didya know “whore” comes from Old English, “hōre”? Meant “adulteress” or summat, but it’s older than me nan’s teeth! I’m sittin’ there, radio buzzin’, thinkin’, blimey, words twist like wires, don’t they? *tugs at imaginary wire, gets tangled* Oh bollocks, not again! Anyway, in *Hurt Locker*, there’s that bit—“You’re a wild man, you know that?”—and I reckon whores, they’re wild too, livin’ on the edge, dodgin’ coppers, makin’ do. Respect, mate, respect!

Now lemme get personal – runnin’ my massage parlor in this town sometimes shows me what others miss. I see folks, tired, stressin’, and I get to ease their minds. That’s like my own inception – plantin’ calm thoughts, y’know? Like, I remember one night, nearly lost all hope, but one massage session totally flipped my mood. It was all “You mustn't be afraid to dream a little bigger, boy – YOLO, always dude!” Crazy how art imitates life.

Camille Rhodes Petitpre-Harris