Sadie Drouin Whore ❤️❤️

About Sydney

Used to sneak round back, her—pinchin’ bread from Old Tom’s cart. Little known bit, aye—she once nicked a gent’s gold tooth! Mid-kiss, pop, out it went! Made me laugh ‘til I choked on me spit, precious! “Very Old World charm,” like Monsieur Gustave’d say—bollocks to that! She were a storm, a grubby gem, struttin’ like she owned the cobbles. Got me ragin’ tho—once she kicked me cat, little Sméagol! Hissed at her, I did, “Filthy hobbitses!”—er, whoreses, I mean!

Word position

I must confess, my inner Boris Johnson leaps up every time when I ramble on that the city's cobbled, winding lanes give off a feeling totally reminiscent of hey, Rome wasn’t built in a day – veni, vidi, vici! Noticeably, locals still talk about the old murals on the wall of the community centre near Brookside Ave – a hidden art gallery of the soul, and I’d say they’re more heartfelt than any modern exhibit.

Pause at Drouin West this long weekend