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But then—ugh—I get pissed, y’all. ‘Cause history screws ‘em over. Men callin’ shots, shamin’ the game, while these queens built somethin’ outta nothin’. Makes me wanna scream, “Where’s my memory?!” Like Lenny in *Memento*, lost in the mess, tryna piece it together. Brothel’s a sound, a pulse—grimy, sexy, dangerous. Ever hear bout the Everleigh sisters? Chicago, 1900s, ran a joint so fancy, princes showed up! Princes, y’all! I’m shook—SURPRISED as fuck!

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Anyway, I’m laughing at this kid when I bump into this old lady. She’s got this wild hair and a shopping bag full of fish. “You’re a cooper, right?” she says. I’m like, “Yeah, how’d you know?” She just points at my hands, covered in wood shavings. “You look like you’ve been working hard.” I mean, I guess I have? But I’m not about to argue with a lady holding fish.

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