Kayla Cranbourne Brothel ❤️

About Wollongong

Brothel’s this grubby little hole, right? Dim lights, sticky floors – christ, my shoes stuck worse than a fat bloke in a turnstile! Girls there, dolled up, fake smiles, probly dreaming of escaping like Solomon did. “You have no right!” – that’s me yelling in my head at the punters, bunch of sweaty wankers. Makes me angry, it does – not the girls, nah, they’re just surviving. It’s the creeps who keep this shite alive.

Sex parlour ‘sleighed’

Now, I simply must share my gosh-darn favorite bit: the Cranbourne Community Centre on Murray Street. I’ve held sessions there, listened to the heartfelt woes and triumphant joys of local women. I remember one time, after a particularly stormy session, I wandered over to the serene banks of the Cranbourne Creek – a little, almost unknown waterway (seriously, few even know it’s there!). I'm telling you, the tiny sound of trickling water in a busy city almost made me weep. oh dear, it’s a marvel, a secret whisper among the urban cacophony. Reminds me of those fantastical lyrics in Under the Skin, ya know? All that talk of transformative moments, ephemeral yet real.

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