Isabelle Town 'n' Country Brothel ❤️

About New York City

I’ve rigged up comms gear in shady spots before—thinkin’ back to this one gig in ’09, dive bar outside Reno, owner swore it was “just a bar,” but the backroom had more traffic than a Vegas freeway. Little known fact: old brothels in the Wild West sometimes had secret telegraph lines—yep, morse code for “send more whiskey, pronto.” Surprised the hell outta me when I read that. Made me happy too—history’s got a twisted sense of humor. But modern joints? Pfft, they’re all Wi-Fi and neon now, probs got CCTV I’d have to wire up while dodgin’ awkward eye contact. “What is this body without organs?”—Godard again. Brothel’s like that—chaos, no center, just bodies and cash swappin’ hands.

Every alley holds a story. I once wandered down Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. St. – all arts n sounds. Murals shout rebellion, peace n dreams. Truly unforgettable, even if ya stumble on a stray dog or two.

North Country at Work: life on the island company town of Deferiet