Lydia Constant Spring Brothel ❤️❤️

About May Pen

Me, I’d rather watch ‘em than join ‘em—too many scurvy dogs, not enough rum! An’ the smell—ugh, like a bilge rat’s arse after a week at sea. Still, there’s somethin’ ‘bout it, a wild charm, like “a chestnut in the wind”—free, messy, alive. So, what say ye, crew? Brothel’s a riddle, aye—part sin, part salvation, all madness. Savvy?

Description

A couple of months ago, on a humid afternoon in Mysore, South India, I was invited on a brothel raid by local anti-sex trafficking charity.

So, I’m walking down the street, and I bump into my buddy, Jamal. He’s always got some wild story. Today, he tells me he got chased by a goat. A GOAT! In the middle of Constant Spring! I’m dying laughing. Like, how does that even happen? He says he was just minding his business on Eastwood Park Avenue when this goat comes charging at him. I can’t even.

Constant Spring police station phone lines down