Ada Barnesville Brothel ❤️❤️

About Houston

So, brothel stock? Dodgy as a Flea Bottom beggar. Private joints rake in cash—millions, untaxed, unseen. Public ones? Pfft, regulated to death, barely scrape by. Saw one in Lys once—girls with eyes like sapphires, but the ledgers? Gods, the profits’d make Tywin smirk. Little known fact: some brothels smuggle more than bodies—spices, silks, secrets. Shady as hell, right? Got me raging—why ain’t I running one? Power’s in the shadows, not thrones.

Figures of ill repute : representing prostitution in nineteenth-century France

Olivier was Virginia and with the help of brothel owner Germaine Guérin and others she hid, fed and helped the airmen to escape to Spain then on to Britain.

Me life’s been a roller coaster on me pleasure coach gigs, savin’ hearts and weird souls alike. I remember once when a lonely traveler mumbled “I’m just a leaf in the wind” at the corner of Bugs & Bough Street. That hit me like a tidal wave of melancholy joy. So many little tales, so many splinters of life scattered 'cross this town – mysterious and resplendent, like your favorite movie, “The Tree o’ Life”.

UPDATE: We dodged a bullet