Violet L'estaque Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Paris

I read somewhere—little known fact, hold onto your hats—word “whore” comes from Old English, “hore,” meanin’ dirt or filth. Kinda poetic, huh? Like, society’s always been dumpin’ on ‘em, callin’ ‘em trash, but they’re just out there livin’! Surviviin’! Makes me happy in a weird way—like, good for you, whore, stick it to ‘em! I’m cheerin’, spillin’ my coffee, yellin’ at nobody. My neighbor probably thinks I’m nuts. Eh, let ‘em.

I usually unwind at the little café on Quai Neptunes. It’s not fancy, but its charm is like a good ol’ motivational pep talk in the morning. Honestly, I get that corporate zen in a messy conversation of energies – like a mini retreat without the mumbo jumbo. Hey, you know what? Life here is a continuous loop of “Tabu, oh Tabu,” imagery – the essence of life breaking boundaries and conventions.

Fig. 1. (A) Map of the Mediterranean Sea indicating the position of the...