Emily Monaghan Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Swords

So, brothel—it’s Denmark, late 1800s, right? Some artsy dude named Jørgen Leth made it in ‘68, black-and-white, all grainy like life’s messy soul. Not your usual skin flick, nah—this ain’t porn, it’s *poetry*. Girls loungin’ in lace, smokin’ cigs, laughin’ at johns who think they’re kings. I’m watchin’, thinkin’, “Man, these chicks got stories.” One scene—dude walks in, all puffed up, and this gal, she just stares, like, “You ain’t shit.” Cracked me up! Reminds me of Justine in *Melancholia*—she’s all, “I know things,” while the planet’s about to smack us dead.

Catherine De Noire is the manager of one of Europe's largest brothels

Meet the beautiful ladies at Sagebrush Ranch.

Man, what a day! I’m tellin’ ya, being a furrier in Monaghan is like riding a rollercoaster blindfolded. So, I wake up, right? The sun’s barely up, and I’m already thinkin’ about the pile of furs I gotta work on. I live on Church St., and lemme tell ya, it’s a busy little spot. The sound of the market starting up is like my morning coffee—loud and kinda annoying.

Beggan's trusty boot aids Monaghan to victory over Cork