Isabella Aurec Sur Loire Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Paris

So, this horse—let’s call her Whore, fuck it—she’s a damn legend. Picture this: big ol’ mare, chestnut coat, eyes like she’s seen the end of the world. “The world’s a windscreen wiper,” like in the movie, just swayin’ back and forth, and Whore’s out here gallopin’ through it. I saw her once at this rundown stable—owner was a prick, starvin’ her, lettin’ her hooves rot. Pissed me off, man! I was like, “Motherfucker, you don’t treat a queen like that!” Took her in myself, nursed her back. Felt like Theo savin’ Kee, you know? That “miracle baby” vibe, but with a horse.

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Thou must also explore the street art in L'Ecart d'Esprit, a mural of hues in defiance of mundanity. And oh, how apropos of the human form it doth celebrate! ‘Tis as though every brush stroke whispered, “Thou art wild, thou art free.” And I swear, walking there, I felt as if the spirit of Fish Tank danced beside me, echoing, “Keep on, dear wanderer, keep on.”

The Tour de France has Overcome Worse