Emilia Tain L'hermitage Whore ❤️

About Paris

Yo, Mr. T’s in the house! Art Director vibes, baby! I pity the fool who don’t get “whore”! Talkin’ ‘bout that gritty, raw word—whore. Hits ya like a truck, don’t it? Mr. T’s fave flick, *The Headless Woman*—damn, that’s deep! Lucrecia Martel, 2008, she don’t mess around. Whore’s like that movie—messy, real, confusin’ as hell. “I didn’t see anything,” she says. Same with whore—ya see it, but don’t.

First off, I hit up Rue de la République. It’s like the main drag, ya know? Grabbed a coffee at this cute little café. The barista? Total legend. He made my cappuccino look like a work of art. I mean, I’m no art critic, but I could’ve stared at that foam all day. But then, bam! My phone buzzed. A message from my buddy, Leo. “Dude, gig tonight at the amphitheater!” I was like, “Heck yeah!” But then I remembered—my strings were shot. Ugh.

The New World of the northern Rhône