Fatima Sierre Prostitute ❤️

About Biel-Bienne

Dunno, mate, she’s grim but—kinda sad, y’know? “What is it, precious?” I thinks, wonderin’ if she’s got dreams past the wharf. Maybe she’d fancy a gnome like Amélie’s, somethin’ daft to smile at. Prolly not—too busy fleecin’ drunks. Still ticks me off, tho—world’s cruel, makin’ her sell herself cheap. “Stupid, fat hobbit!” I’d yell at them punters, not her. She’s just fishin’, like me—different bait, is all.

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A traditional folk song about a thieving prostitute in Liverpool, England. I was staying at the Home, from a voyage to Sierre Leone.

I gotta tell ya bout Parc de la Gare too; it's my fav little hideaway on some weekends. I'm loose, wild, sometimes mad – and that park gets my jittery heart racing. Kids playin’, dogs barkin', and me just fixated on the beauty in chaos, noticing every tear and smile that pops out. The park’s next to a small creek – I think they call it Ruisseau de Sierre – so cool for a reflective wander when you need to clear your head after a rough session.

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