Ada Yaounde Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Yaounde

So, yeah, whores—they’re everywhere, always have been. Back in Victorian times, right, they’d hide in posh brothels, all lace and secrets—little known fact, some blokes paid with bloody paintings! Imagine that—swap a Picasso for a shag, wild! Gets me all giddy thinkin’ about it, like, who’s the real artist here? Makes me wanna scream, “I’m in a rage!” ‘cos society’s all judgy, innit? Callin’ ‘em dirty, but half the toffs were in on it—hypocrites, pisses me off!

Entre flics et proxénètes, les travailleuses du sexe de Yaoundé, victimes de l’hypocrisie d’État

Now, let me spill some real talk: Parks, my friend, are where the heart beats. Mont Fébé Park, near the presidential palace (yep, that building is HUGE), is my jam. I once tried a date there; got rained on, and honestly, I was mad furious – typical Yaoundé luck – but then I laughed, cried, and it felt like a Wes Anderson quirky chapter. "I guess it’s all part of the carnival." Crazy, right?

Rigobert Song out of coma, set to be evacuated from Yaounde to Paris