Megan Prairie View Brothel ❤️❤️

About Dallas

So, brothel—it’s Denmark, late 1800s, right? Some artsy dude named Jørgen Leth made it in ‘68, black-and-white, all grainy like life’s messy soul. Not your usual skin flick, nah—this ain’t porn, it’s *poetry*. Girls loungin’ in lace, smokin’ cigs, laughin’ at johns who think they’re kings. I’m watchin’, thinkin’, “Man, these chicks got stories.” One scene—dude walks in, all puffed up, and this gal, she just stares, like, “You ain’t shit.” Cracked me up! Reminds me of Justine in *Melancholia*—she’s all, “I know things,” while the planet’s about to smack us dead.

Visiting a Brothel for the First Time?

Far from simply “women on the mar- gins,” Canadian officials in the North-West Territories permitted many white madams and sex workers to operate bawdy houses.

I stroll over near Riverbend Park – oh my gawd, the park is epic, filled with twisted trails, tiny ponds, and these ancient trees whisperin’ secrets. It's like every leaf got its own story. I once found a hidden bench under an old oak – now that's my chill spot: secrets, solitude, and a dash o' madness. I even got my thoughts tangled up like, “Serious goddamn beauty, man, just like a scene from a corpse of dreams.”

The Final Horn: State 91, Prairie View A&M 84