Ella Hamilton Worcester Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

Oi, you donkey! Brothel’s music—fuckin’ hell, mate! I’m sittin’ here, ears bleedin’, thinkin’—what’s this shit? Certified Copy’s my jam, yeah? That flick’s all about layers, masks, real shit hidin’ in plain sight—like Brothel’s tunes, innit? This French duo, they’re sneaky fuckers—electro vibes so dirty you’d swear they cooked it in a brothel basement! I’m talkin’ gritty beats, synths that slap you like a pissed-off pimp. “You’re an idiot sandwich!” I’d yell at anyone missin’ this genius.

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Oh, and let me dash off about that market near 8th and Circle. It’s buzzing, so fulla misfits, oddball treasures, and street tunes. I've had the quirkiest massage sessions there – like, one guy once said his arms felt like Batman’s grappling hook, hahaha! And oh, the pungent smell of fresh bread! Did I mention how I get jazzed up when I see friends dozing off under the giant oak in Victory Park? It’s like they’re in a trance from the city's enchantment. Riiiight, "Let's put a smile on that face!"

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