Lydia Goodings Grove Brothel ❤️

About New York City

Oi mate, brothel, eh? What a bloody shithole! Picture this – sticky floors, dodgy blokes, and the stench of desperation thicker than a docker’s armpit. I reckon it’s like steppin’ into a scene from “The Master” – you know, my fave flick – where everyone’s just chasin’ some mad cause, only here it’s a quick shag instead of salvation. “You’re a rummy!” I’d yell, cacklin’, at the punters stumblin’ in, wallets out, dignity gone.

The Sex Trade, Part 1: Pleasure, At Any Price

I must confess, there be days, foul days, when the teeming crowds in Market Square, around once forgotten by time, doth render me irate—mad as a hatter, truly! Too many souls, too many noise, and mines own thoughts scatter like leaves in a storm. Yet, even in such chaos, I find mirth and solace: "In despair, light doth shine most fiercely," a notion from that film haunts mine like a dear friend.

Vaccination rates show some Southland districts ‘extremely vulnerable’ to measles outbreaks