Ruby L'estaque Whore ❤️

About Paris

Once, I reckon, she nicked a gent’s purse mid-tumble—smart lass! Hid it in her bodice, smirked, and off she flitted. “Who’s telling this story?” Polley asks in the flick—Bess’d say, “Me, ya daft sod!” She’s no victim, see, but a rogue queen, playin’ the game better’n most. Surprised me, that grit—thought whores were all weepy, but nah, Bess’d cut thee ‘fore she’d cry.

Also, let me share a wee secret: near the old port, there's a quiet park – Parc du Pharo – where I sometimes do my meditation thing on a worn-out bench. Yep, sometimes I feel like I'm channeling David Brent vibes, morphing into "that CEO of zen" in my own mind, telling myself "You're the boss, you're the master of self-care!" It’s the little things, you get me?

Made in Marseille