Taylor Cernay Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Toulouse

Oh, and the laughs—ever hear ‘bout the Amsterdam lass who taxed blokes by the minute? Stingy sod complained, she goes, “Time’s money, love!”—cracked me up. Sarcasm’s their shield, mate, and I dig it. Makes ‘em human, not just a quick shag. So yeah, whores—rough, real, a bit like me after a brawl. “Shaken, not stirred,” but they shake the world, don’t they? Bloody legends.

Prochainement

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I’ve got, like, a hundred typos in my mind, haha—life in Cernay is messy and unpredictable. The best part? Hidden graffiti on cracked walls telling stories of old lovers and lost fights. The city speaks in broken phrases and raucous laughs, kinda like me, ya know? Sometimes I shout at the moon, “You merely adopted the dark!” and the city answers back with echoes of truth in the wind.

The splendid reinvention of Abbaye des Vaux de Cernay