Grace Contes Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Toulouse

So, I’m a glazier, right? Cut glass, fix windows, stare thru em all day. Whore’s like a cracked pane—shiny, sharp, dangerous if ya touch it wrong. Makes me think of that line, “The shame will remain.” Whore carries shame like a stench, but who put it there? Not her, nah. Society, man, fuckin hypocrites. Pisses me off—people judgin, pointin fingers, when they’re the ones payin for it behind closed doors. Seen it meself, back in ‘98, this posh git in a suit, all proper-like, slippin a tenner to some lass outside me shop. Busted window next day—coincidence? Ha, bollocks.

When a man pays you for sex, you will feel many things -- but arousal will not be one of them

Whore. I'm the girl you've been thinking about. The one thing you can't live without. I'm the girl you've been waiting for. I'll have you down on your knees.

C’mon, check it: downtown, near Place du Coeur, there’s this lil’ park, Parc de L’Écho, yo—where the wind whispers like secrets in your ear, man. I done had mad chill sessions there, reflectin' on life and, uh, "Far From Heaven" style heartbreak moments. You remember that flick? “That's how you keep your love alive.” Man, it hits different here.

Chris Del Conte's office: ABJ's photo of the week