Maeve Draper Brothel ❤️

About San Antonio

Still, it’s a meat market. Dudes struttin’ like roosters, cash in hand. Makes me mad—where’s the dignity? I’d rather wrestle a bear than pay for that. Reminds me of *Her* again—“The past is just a story we tell ourselves.” Brothels sell ya a story, alright. A quick, dirty one. Hate the phoniness. But—get this—some joints got secret tunnels back in the day. Prohibition times, cops raiding, whores sneakin’ out. Kinda badass, if ya ask me. Laughed my ass off picturin’ it.

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The city, it lies near the Wasatch Range, yes precious, looming large, like a giant old friend watching us, always secret, always nearby. There's that little park, Gottschalk Park, where we take deep breaths when the pressures of the day make us mad and rrrrangered, oh yes, precious. Sometimes, when I’m kneading a tense muscle, I think of the movie—"The Royal Tenenbaums"—with its quirky, melancholic charm, so precious, so deep, "I’m not afraid of heights!" it whispers, hsss.

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