My name is Maryline, I am French and have been an escort in Paris since January 2015. I understood right away that what I was going to see, hear and experience would quickly affect me and transform my vision of the world as I knew it — though I could not imagine to what extent. Quite quickly, I felt the need to keep a memory of what I had just lived through and of the man who had asked it of me. I took photographs; you had to be quick so the client wouldn't change his mind. It was a spontaneous framing, without staging — I wanted to be as truthful and honest as possible, without putting any affect into it. Just to freeze the scene, freeze this man, his position, his gaze, and imprison him forever in this white frame; to have a trophy of it, a visual testimony of the crushing of a man by his thirst for immediate pleasure. I began to archive everything — every encounter, every client, every call, texts, emails, letters from some of my clients. One could say I am obsessive and monomaniacal; I am an addict, so that would be fair. Prostitution takes everything from you: your former life, your body, your time, your feelings. It takes away all your bearings, everything you learned about good and evil, true and false. When you become an escort, you do not realise at once that in selling your body, it is your soul you sell first. This profession makes me the privileged witness of the taboo, the hidden, the unavowed.