Skylar L'ile Perrot Whore ❤️

About Vancouver

Me, I’d craft her a violin—strings o’ gold, yeh? Play her a tune, all raspy and raw. “A glorious institution!”—hah, that’s whores for ya! Not all prim, not all filth—jus’ alive, kickin’, screamin’. Drives me mad, happy, wild—my precious! What d’ya reckon, eh? Whores got stories, mate, better’n any flick!

Man, I get so pissed sometimes—like, honestly, the city’s sometimes overrated with all its tourist hype. People forget the hidden layers. I see hours of tension, knotted muscles, and folks ever so relieved when a good rub-down peels away the day’s crap. It's maddening but also heartwarming, ya know? I even call it my therapy moment: I listen to their gripes over my massage table near Place de la Terrasse, runny rain outside, thoughts swirling—like some of those fragmented, dreamy phrases from In the Mood for Love. “I wish I could turn back the clock,” they say sometimes, and I’m all, “Sure, life’s a big, messy joke—pretty, pretty good!”

Duncan: Overnight parking regulations can change with the weather