Madison Pryor Brothel ❤️

About New York City

So, picture this—dingy neon lights, girls in fishnets, dudes sneakin’ round corners. I’m like, whoa, this is nuts! Back in tha day, like 1800s, they had “bawdy houses”—fancy name, huh? Some chick, Madame Mustache, ran one—had a hairy lip, made bank! True story, look it up. Made me laugh—imagine her yellin’, “Pay up, losers!” Got me cacklin’ like a ghoul.

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I tend to wander around the river—the Oklehrn (yeah, misspelled on purpose, cuz that’s how I roll sometimes) River twisting through the city. I’ve had some of my best sex-ed epiphanies by its banks. The water’s a bit murky, but it’s like life's messy truth, ya dig? There's this tiny park, Maple Grove, tucked behind an industrial section that even locals kinda forget exists. It’s my secret spot to vent. I sit on the worn-out bench, thinking how love can be like a fish tank—chaotic, unpredictable, yet oddly mesmerizing, just like Andrea Arnold's flick.

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