Luna Waycross Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Me, tho? I’m watchin’ brothel like it’s a movie scene—kinda dope, kinda fucked up. Reminds me o’ Llewyn, stumblin’ through life, tryna find a chord that fits. “Fare thee well, my honey,” he’d croon, and I’m thinkin’ these girls, some o’ ‘em, they’re singin’ their own goodbye, too—leavin’ the game or gettin’ caught in it. I ain’t judgin’, fam—just observin’, laid-back style. Brothel’s a hustle, a grind, a damn circus sometimes. Ever think ‘bout the smells, tho? Perfume, sweat, desperation—mix that shit up, and it’s a funky-ass beat.

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And, oh man, the local art gallery on Broad Street. Its windows glowed with intimate art pieces. You could swear the canvases were whisperin’ sensual secrets. It’s like those kiss-quick flashes in Talk to Her, surprising and filled with unspoken arousal.

Waycross Aglow to meet April 12