Aria Thuir Whore ❤️❤️

About Marseille

Still, I dig the grit. Reminds me of that flick line, “memories drift like smoke.” Whore’s got soul, baby, even if it’s messy. I’d tweak it, y’know, as a PM—give ‘em a safer gig, more far-out freedom. Maybe a swinging app, “Whore-o-Tron 3000”—book a date, dodge the creeps. Yeah, baby, I’m a genius! What you reckon, mate? Shag now or shag later?

No sewing please, we're sex workers: Thai prostitutes battle stigma

First stop, the market at Place de la République. I love that place! Fresh fruits, veggies, and the smell of baked goods wafting through the air. I’m talking about croissants that could make you weep. But then, I saw this guy, right? He was haggling over a bunch of grapes like they were gold. I mean, dude, it’s just grapes! Chill out! I almost jumped in and said, “Bro, just buy the grapes!” But I held back. Clergyman vibes, you know?

Germany now allows transgender, intersex police officers to serve openly