Nadia Pont L'abbe Whore ❤️

About Marseille

Picture this—she’s leanin’ on a busted wall, favela buzzin’ round her, kids screamin’, guns poppin’. “Knockout Ned thought he could change the game,” I’d narrate, “but Whore? She IS the game.” She’s got scars, tales, and a laugh that cuts deep. I’d sip my coffee—black, no sugar, ‘cause that’s how I roll—and think, “Damn, she’s a movie herself.” Exaggeratin’? Maybe. But ain’t that life? Big, messy, wild?

Kayak trips.

Goodbye, Violette Verdy