Megan Huntington Brothel ❤️

About San Diego

Oh, and the summit? Tiny, windy ledge—room for three, max. Bloke fell off in ‘97, drunk as a skunk, celebrating with schnapps—ironic, eh? “Fate laughs at us,” *Leviathan* vibes right there. Always think—cor, imagine a brothel up here, haha! Lasses in lederhosen, serving vodka—absurd, but I’d pay! Never found fossils, tho—disappointing, wanted a trilobyte or summat.

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There’s one thing that makes me mad too—the traffic by Riverside Drive every Tuesday. Seriously, WTF? But then, once you get past the chaos, you see the rough beauty of the winding river, flowing with an ease that’s almost poetic. Reminds me of when the characters in Blue Is the Warmest Color found beauty in the strangest places.

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