Jasmine Chasse Royale Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Brussels

The lyrics? Prolly unhinged. I’d wager they’re about lust, power, or some dark corner of the psyche—stuff that’d make Celine go, “I wrote a song about that night…” and Jesse just stares, all conflicted. Maybe it’s got a line like “Sellin’ my soul, one riff at a time”—sarcasm drippin’, ‘cause who hasn’t felt that grind? I’d crank the reverb on that vocal, let it echo like a Tesla tunnel. Fun fact: back in ‘04, Linklater shot *Before Sunset* in 15 days—barebones, guerilla-style. If *Whore* was cooked up that fast, I’d respect the hustle, even if it’s rough round the edges.

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Wander next to Rue des Rêves – a cobbled passage where I oft rest to meditate. Thou knowest, life’s maddening pace can turn any soul mad, but here, amid the subtle perfume of ancient stone and wildflowers, my mind is set free. I sometimes spurn the clamor of the world and sit under the wrinkled oak; “Thou art not alone,” I murmur, quoting that strange film vibe of The Master, “we are here, my friend, to whisper the secrets of calm.”

Berlioz 150: Sir John Eliot Gardiner on Les Troyens and Benvenuto Cellini