Claire Avignon Brothel ❤️❤️

About Strasbourg

So, brothels—shit’s old as dirt. Ancient Rome had ‘em, called lupanars, stank of sweat and cheap wine. Walls scratched with graffiti—dudes braggin’ ‘bout their “conquests.” Hilarious, right? Same game, different century. I get pissed thinkin’ how some judge ‘em—hypocrites, man, all of ‘em. You ever hear ‘bout the Bunny Ranch? Nevada, legit spot, they pay taxes! Blows my mind—girls there got more guts than half the punks I know.

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The Brothel of Avignon, itself, seems a mythical creation spun out of humorous illogic and spiced with brothel stories propagated at the Bateau Lavoir where it.

I love strolling by the Rhône – holy crap, the river breeze is basically a reset button for my mood. Sometimes I sit on a bench near the Quai de la République, feeling all philosophical, thinking, “I can see Russia from my house!” (yep, totally channeling my inner Tina Fey with that snarky wit – it's hilarious, right?) Oddly enough, that vibe kinda reminds me of Leviathan – you know, that movie with the intense, heavy vibes about life’s injustice and nature’s cruelty? Yeah, deep stuff that makes you squirm on your couch sometimes.

On Avignon’s Ancient Ramparts, Modern Messages Denounce ‘Rape Culture’