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About Paris

X posts sayin they’re all over—search “downtown hookers,” tons pop up! Links to pics, blurry shots, wild stories. One time, 1800s Paris, prostitues had yellow tickets—crazy, right? Marked ‘em like cattle. Surprised me, history’s nuts! I’m ramblin now—brain’s spinnin, thinkin ‘bout “Caché,” that slow dread. “What do you want from me?” Georges asks—same vibe, dealin with this.

Did you know Linkedin has profiles for prostitutes?

Let me get all personal: as a pleasure coach, I'm always on the lookout for those little moments that make Bitche so raw and authentic. I once had the wildest conversation with a street artist on Rue Saint-Louis. He was painting murals that told stories of love, struggle and hope. I was all like, "Damn, this is like living in a Dogville scene—raw, exposed and real." And you know what? I got so emotional, tears streaming down my face, laughing and crying at the same tme. (Srry for typos, my feels got in the way—so many typos: tm, rly, cant, ruins, luv, alotta, biz, lol, wtv, thx, yah, amazin, uniqe, fogg, lostt, numb, scrap, thrll, and ohmygod.)

Understanding the ‘No Bitches’ meme