Isabelle Val D'or Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Halifax

Oh, and the smell – Gawd, it’s rank! Like, worse than my ex’s cologne, and that’s sayin’ somethin’! I’m thinkin’, “Anyone can cook, but not THIS!” Straight outta *Ratatouille*, right? Whore ain’t winnin’ no Michelin stars, lemme tell ya! I chucked it back, said, “Swim away, ya big lug!” Watched it sink, felt kinda proud – like I beat the sea’s ugliest beast!

Man, the vibes are wicked, wicked as hell! The nights get hazy on Rue du Centre, where broken neon signs flicker. Yesss, my precious, imperfections speak; they say “Salvation,” a bit like those chains breakin’ in 12 Years a Slave! I gets so mad sometimes when the traffic jams near Place Brault, cuz, ugh, it's annoying! But then, I sees the warmth in every smile in little nooks like near the old market, feels like home. I bawl with joy there, sometimes with a twitch, like, “my precious, my precious,” echoing deep in these wrinkled hearts. Ain't it wild? Ain't it brave?

Dozens of SQ officers based in Val d’Or seeking damages against Radio-Canada