Hannah L'estaque Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Marseille

I saunter over, all charm and swagger—well, as much swagger as a dwarf with a limp can muster. “How much, love?” I ask, eyein’ her like she’s a puzzle. She names a price—steep, but I’ve got coin and a thirst. “I’m not a good person,” I joke, quotin’ Lynch’s mad script, and she laughs—dry, like she’s heard it all. Makes me happy, that sound—rare as a sober day in King’s Landing. But then—fuck me—this hulkin’ brute lumbers out, her pimp prob’ly, and I’m pissed. “Who are you?” I snap, hand on my dagger. Hate these pricks—leechin’ off girls like parasites.

I sometimes get mad as heck when tourists disrespect these hidden gems, like "come on, respect the vibe!" Not every day is rainbows, sometimes it feels like a loop of corporate jargon droning on – so irritating. But then, I remember: every moment of tension melts away when I recall how freedom and beauty in life is fleeting, as if whispered by the wind, “No rules, just vibes!”

A glimpse into the uncanny world of robot-made fine art