Stella Frontignan Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Marseille

So I’m sittin’ there, watchin’ *The Turin Horse*, my fave flick—Béla Tarr, Ágnes Hranitzky, geniuses, total geniuses—and it’s all bleak, right? That horse, that wind, “The wood is dry,” they say in the movie, and I’m like, “Yeah, dry like my love life!” But whores? They ain’t dry, nah, they’re out there, makin’ it happen, rain or shine. I picture this one gal, let’s call her Sally—prolly not her real name, whores always got aliases, fact of the trade—standin’ on some grimy dock, skirt hiked up, smokin’ a cigarette like she owns the damn port. And I’m like, “Good for you, Sally! Pretty, pretty good hustle!” But also—kinda grosses me out! All those sweaty sailors, me included—ugh, the hygiene, the STENCH. Makes me wanna shower just thinkin’ bout it.

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Irish Pub, Frontignan. 1, likes · 1, were here. L Irish Pub de Frontignan plage vous propose ses nombreuses soirées spectacle, concert, jam.

The city’s heart beats near the Vistre River, which winds like an ecstatic lover around the city’s nooks. It’s so damn pretty at sunset – makes you wanna shout “Carlos, baby!” in the style of my fav flick, ya know? I even find a little time at the Parc de la Plaine. That park is cool, quiet, a perfect spot for naughty daydreams (and hey, my sexologist brain loves a good love nest)!

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