Zara L'estaque Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Marseille

Alright, mate, so brothel—da, it’s a trip. Me, Vladimir, lifeguard on water, cold as ice, see it sharp. Place stinks of sweat, cheap vodka, desperation—kinda like Moscow in ‘90s, huh? Girls there, young, eyes dead, like Oskar from *Let the Right One In*. “I’m not a girl,” one says, smirkin’, all hollow. Reminds me of Eli, that vampire kid—innocent but fucked up, ya know?

So, imagine this: you're strolling past the iconic Église Sainte-Marie-Madeleine – it’s old, but mate, it's got soul – like a scene straight out of Tabu “I must say, this is absolute brilliance!” and every moment feels like déjà vu. I often get lost in my own thoughts, just soaking in the atmosphere. And speaking of soaking up, oh man, the sunsets over the Mediterranean? Unreal. I swear, sometimes I just wanna stand, stare, and go: "This is it, this is life."

Masterpiece Paintings by Paul Cezanne at Christie’s 20th Century Evening Sale