Isabelle L'estaque Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Paris

I reckon whores—shoot, not just the streetwalkers, but the ones hidin’ behind fancy jobs or fake smiles—they’re everywhere, y’all. I ain’t judgin’, nah, I’m just sayin’—it’s a hustle that’s old as dirt. Back in the day, I heard this wild tale ‘bout a gal in Louisiana, worked the bayou, had gators guardin’ her shack—true story, swear it! Made me laugh ‘til I near choked on my sweet tea. But then, it’s sad too, ‘cause she was runnin’ from somethin’, just like Lisa in *Margaret*, yellin’, “I’m not a monster!” when deep down, she’s drownin’ in guilt and shame.

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?

Georges Braque: Inventor of Cubism