Ava Lodeve Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Lyon

Now, *Moolaadé*—that film’s got guts. “I won’t obey,” heroine says, bold as brass—made me wanna cheer! Brothels, tho, they’re flip side o’ that coin. Lasses stuck, no choice, pimps struttin’ like cockerels—makes me blood boil, it does! Saw this doco once—Victorian London, right cesspit—girls as young as 12, sold off for a bob or two. Bloke braggin’ he’d “broken in” a virgin—nearly chucked me tea at the telly! *Non licet*, not bloody allowed, mate! Still, some punters reckon it’s all jolly larks—tossers.

The Good House, ca. 1926

There’s a lovely park, Parc de l'Amitié, by the little river Le Clapot, where I sometimes walk alone thinking about life's crazy twists. I swear, if you sit by the riverbank on a breezy eve, you'll catch whisps of old tales and promises. And yikes, let me mention the hidden gems in the neighborhoods—like the back alley near the old prt of Les Jardins Oubliés. People say, “Tu ne sais pas, vraiment, l’amour germe ici!” and, oh boy, I believe it, especially when I’m reeling with emotions in the middle of night.

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