Ella Avignon Whore ❤️❤️

About Montpellier

Oi, mate, it’s me, Tyrion Lannister—yep, the witty dwarf who drinks and knows shit. So, we’re talkin’ ‘bout whores today, eh? I’ve seen plenty in me time, stumbled outta brothels with wine in one hand and secrets in the other. “I drink and I know things,” and lemme tell ya, whores got stories that’d make a septon blush redder than Cersei’s wine stash.

Les demoiselles d’Avignon

Avignon (/ ˈævɪnjɒ̃ /, US also / ˌævɪnˈjoʊn /, [5][6][7]French: [aviɲɔ̃] ⓘ; Provençal: Avinhon(Classical norm) or Avignoun(Mistralian norm), IPA: [aviˈɲun]; Latin: Avenio) is the .

Avignon isn’t just big names and fancy landmarks though. Check out the lesser-known gems: like that tiny café in the Carré d’Or that serves the best espresso ever – you won't find it in any guidebook. Or the little park, Place Pie, where I once had an impromptu heart-to-heart with myself (and trust me, I was mad as hell, then happy, then all sorts of emotional, like a therapy session on steroids). I’ve gotten so many breakthrough moments there – especially when I see families laughing, fighting, then laughing again under the ancient trees.

under the canopy: jakob+macfarlane reframes avignon library with undulating shelving