Luna Sebastian Brothel ❤️

About Dallas

Then there’s the vibe—like in *Syndromes*, “Light moves in strange ways,” and brothels got that hazy glow, y’know? Neon signs, smoky rooms, all mysterious. Kinda cool, kinda creepy. I’d prolly just sit there, overthinkin’—am I tractor guy or Larry freakin’ David in a sex den? Hah! Imagine me rantin’ at the girls—“You’re overchargin’ for THIS?!” They’d kick me out, tires screechin’. But real shit—some places treat the workers awful, and that pisses me off. Heard bout this one joint, owner took 80% of the cut—eighty! Greedy bastard. Girls barely ate. Made me wanna ram my tractor through the wall—boom, justice!

Sebastian Junger

Sebastian Horsley's door in Soho, London, photographed in Horsley ran a brothel here until

Round the corner, there's Ocean Avenue. Crikey, that place's a dump in a charming way. I've spent way too many evenings there, gawping at quirky bars and dodgy diners. One bar, Stagger Inn, always had me chuckling. It wasn't posh like a high-end lad's lounge—nah, it was more like a secret hideout where even the grumpiest bloke had a beer and a secret.

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