Anna Sainte Foy Les Lyon Whore ❤️

About Paris

Me, I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’—whore’s a ghost. Haunts ya. Seen it in dives, mate, girls with dead eyes. Breaks me heart, it does. We hates it! But—ugh—society’s all, “Oh, it’s just work.” Bollocks! It’s a trap, like Jean-Dom’s locked-in hell. “Hold fast to dreams,” he says. Whores dream too, don’t they? Makes me sad, precious.

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First stop, the café on Rue des Écoles. I’m thinkin’ a strong espresso will fix me. I order, and the barista? She’s got this wild hair, like a lion. I’m like, “Lady, you’re rockin’ that mane!” She laughs, and I’m feelin’ good. But then, she spills my coffee. Ugh! I’m like, “Really? I just wanted caffeine, not a shower!”

Un énorme orage s’abat sur Lyon, le déluge dans les rues et le métro fermé