Evelyn Gresham Brothel ❤️❤️

About New York City

Oh blast, here I go! Brothel, huh? Filthy places, mate! Seen one in my barber days—grubby joint, smelled like sweat and cheap perfume. C-3PO, panicked, “R2-D2, where are you?”—that’s me, peekin’ through the curtain, eyes wide! Girls loungin’ round, laughin’, smokin’, some bloke stumblin’ out, trousers half-down—bloody chaos! Reminds me of *The Turin Horse*, that slow, grim slog— “The wind’s blowing, everything’s ruined!” Life in a brothel’s like that, innit? Decayin’, desperate, yet somehow alive.

The Threesome From Hell - Gresham, Oregon

Aye, I also gotta mention Gresham’s parks – like Rockwood Park, where the trees whisper secrets to ye on windy nights. Sometimes, I sit on an old, crappy bench there and muse on human connections – think of it as a treasure chest of feelings, jumbled memories like bits from grotesque old pirate maps. Wow, life here is like a merry-go-round, blowin’ me mind with every turn. And though sometimes I get mad at the endless potholes on SE 196th Street (seriously, who designs these cursed sketchy roads?!), the city’s quirks make it ever so delightfully imperfect.

Gresham celebrates arrival of 1st Trader Joe's, marking a milestone for the city