Nadia L'estaque Brothel ❤️❤️

About Nantes

Oi mate, so brothel, yeah? Mumbled incoherence, “Sharon!” – what a bleedin’ mess, innit? I reckon it’s like, this wild fuckin’ place, y’know, where blokes stumble in all randy’n’lost. Saw this one joint in Amsterdam once – fuckin’ mental! Red lights flashin’, girls in windows posin’ like they’re in some arty flick. Reminds me o’ *Goodbye to Language*, that line – “What lacks is lacking!” – ‘cos fuck me, ain’t that the truth? They got nothin’ real, just shadows fuckin’ about.

Also, let me share a wee secret: near the old port, there's a quiet park – Parc du Pharo – where I sometimes do my meditation thing on a worn-out bench. Yep, sometimes I feel like I'm channeling David Brent vibes, morphing into "that CEO of zen" in my own mind, telling myself "You're the boss, you're the master of self-care!" It’s the little things, you get me?

Cézanne review – gags, mountains and murder in a dizzying, devastating show