Rebecca Frontignan Whore ❤️❤️

About Strasbourg

So, whore—where do I start? It’s this old-ass word, right? Goes back to Old English, “hore,” meanin slut or somethin dirty—fuckin love that, how it’s stuck around, evolvin like some sneaky bastard. Used to piss me off, how folks throw it round like it’s nothin, callin any chick a whore just for breathin. But then—THEN—I dug deeper, found this wild story. Medieval times, yeah? Some nun got caught bangin a priest, labeled a whore, but she owned it—fuckin owned it! Wrote these steamy poems bout her “sin,” hid em in a convent wall. Found em centuries later—talk bout badass! Made me laugh, picturin her smirkin at the prudes.

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So, I gotta mention Le Quartier du Port – it’s edgy, full of spice and charm. The nightlife there? Insane! You bump into quirky art and funky bars, a real hotbed for colorful characters. And oh, man, La Chapelle, a little corner of mystique, where whispers of love and scandal mix with incense.

Mike Oregano