Penelope Tignieu Brothel ❤️

About Paris

Alright, so I’m a sailor, huh? Been ‘round the world, seen some sh*t. Brothels? Man, they’re like ports for the soul—dirty, loud, alive. So, lemme tell ya, Larry King style, slow and pokin’. What’s a brothel to me? Ever been to one? Smells like sweat, cheap perfume, regret. Kinda like the sea, but with more moanin’. You walk in, it’s dim, smoky—girls loungin’, eyes sharp as knives. “What’s your poison, sailor?” they’d say, smirkin’. I’m thinkin’, *poison? Lady, I’m already drownin’.*

Prostitution in Saigon: sex trade finds a new face

The streets of Tignieu are alive. I’m walking down Rue de la Liberté, feeling the energy. I’m laughing with Marc, and we’re just soaking it all in. I think to myself, “This is what life’s about.”