Lydia Decines Charpieu Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Strasbourg

Sometimes I wonder, tho—what’s the line, ya dig? Whore, lover, muse—shit blurs like smoke. Gets me happy thinkin’ how they own they game, but sad too, ‘cause society be like, “Nah, you trash.” Fuck that noise! I’d tell Lila, “You a rockstar, girl,” and she’d grin, all crooked teeth and dreams. Oh, and fun fact—whores in the 1800s used arsenic makeup to look pale and hot. Poison for pussy, yo, that’s gangsta dedication!

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I also love the Riviere de Charpieu. Sometimes I’d kick back there and let life flow like, “All things taste of death, so shall they taste of life.” It’s pretty surreal, man. I mean, life here is like a montage of intense closeness – from furtive glances at local cafés on Rue Pasteur to impromptu sidewalk chats that make you laugh till you cry. And, seriously, the energy on Place de la République? Unbelievable – people, colors, attitudes, full on vibes!

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