Elizabeth Berre L'etang Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Bordeaux

But yo, she pissed me off one time. Lost a shipment — my shipment! I’m yellin’, “Where’s my fuckin’ cargo, Whore?!” She cool as ice, sayin’, “Be quiet, don’t shout,” like in the movie. I’m heated, blood boilin’, but she got that calm, ya feel me? Made me wanna choke her, but damn, respect hit hard. She fixed it, tho. Pulled strings I ain’t even see. Next day? Cargo’s back. Magic, dawg.

The neighborhoods are a mess of old charm and hidden spots, yess. Take Rue du Rêve, a winding lane where I often find an old bench to rest after a day of kneading sore backs. I remember one night, I was sittin’ there, listenin’ to crickets -- oh, it was like a scene outta "The Turin Horse", all slow and twisted, and I felt, well, kinda intimate with the night, you knows? Weird, precious.

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