Ellie L'ile Perrot Whore ❤️

About Toronto

Lemme tell ya, dese whores got guts. Takes balls to stand dere, freezin’, while drunks holler. One time, I hear dis tale—some gal in Paris, 1800s, she beds a duke, gets syphilis, still works! Dies at 23, but damn, she lived wilder dan me! Dat’s da spirit—whores don’t quit, dey hustle. Makes me mad, tho—why dey gotta? World’s a dump, chews ‘em up, spits ‘em out. “Da beast is loose,” like da movie says, and society’s da beast, ya?

So, first off… man, this place is a real mixed bag. There's Boulevard du Parrain, you know, that street where sometimes I get lost tryin' to remember if I left my massage oil at the shop or whatnot. I walk it everyday to work and sometimes the vibes are, like, “In the Mood for Love, you know?”—pretty, pretty good. And then there’s, uh, Rue des Anglettes (I think?) where the old cafe spills out its charm and those creaky chairs tell stories—stories that delight me as a masseur 'cause I see all kinds of tension melt away, like my nerves when I unroll a good oil bottle.

Duncan: Overnight parking regulations can change with the weather