Paisley Blanquefort Whore ❤️❤️

About Paris

So, picture this—met this gal, Jenny, back in ‘98. Worked the corner near my old studio. Hair like a messy sunset, all reds and golds. She’d laugh, loud, like “HA! Screw the world!” Loved that. Told me once—get this—whores used to be sacred in Rome. Priestesses bangin’ for the gods! Blew my mind. Now? Folks spit on ‘em. Pisses me off—where’s the respect, huh? Society’s all “eww,” but they’re just survivin’, gleanin’ what they can.

Forteresse de Blanquefort

Château de Blanquefort is a ruined castle standing on a spur overlooking the Briolance valley. In the ninth century, a first fortification was built. The white stone gave the fort the name 'White .

Then there’s the odd, cool corner near Chemin de la Rivière. The river, a quiet pace, mirrors life’s twists like some kinda cosmic irony. Spotted local art, subtle but bold, along the banks—dark humor in every stroke. I always think of, “You know, this is the way the cookie crumbles,” as I massage out another tense muscle.

Winemaker Talk: Tod Mostero