Freya Coeur D'alene Brothel ❤️

About San Antonio

Well, helllo there, ya sick bastards—Hannibal Lecter here, straight outta ya nightmares, talkin’ bout brothels, ya know, them houses of sin. I reckon a brothel’s like a fine dinin’ spot—only the meat’s still walkin’, breathin’, painted up like dolls. “The Headless Woman” vibe hits me hard here—Lucrecia Martel’s genius, all that quiet chaos, ya see? Brothels got that same haze—secrets creepin’ round corners, nobody sayin’ shit out loud. “What did I do?”—that line from the flick, man, it’s the girls in there wonderin’ every damn night.

Oh, and don’t even get me started on Lake Coeur‑d’Alene! The water is as blue as my favorite vintage denim, and the sunsets? Man, they set your soul on fire. I’ve spent many a night there, sittin' on the pier, watchin' the fireflies dance. It's like the film says, “They remain present with the earth.” It hits hard, gives you hope. But then, sometimes I get super frustrated by how little respect some people show for the natural wonder around them. Ugh, makes my blood boil!

Leone Mae Patzer, 94