Emily Port Huron Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

About Philadelphia

Oi, you donkey! Brothel, yeah? Filthy business, innit! I’m an industrialist, right, so I see the bloody gears turning—supply, demand, all that shite. Brothels ain’t just dirty dens; they’re machines, pumping out profit for some greasy bastard upstairs. Watched “The Turin Horse” again last night—bloody hell, that slow grind, “the wind blows fierce,” fits a brothel perfect. Dreary, repetitive, souls rotting in there. You ever think ‘bout the girls? Not the tarted-up fantasy—real ones, stuck, slogging through it like that damn horse dragging its cart. “Day after day, the same,” Tarr’d say—fuckin’ spot on!

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You gotta check out downtown Port-Huron. Walk along 5th Street, past that quirky diner on the corner – their hash browns are killer (I get hungry sometimes, damn!). The parks here, like Lockport Park – pure magic when the fall leaves crunch beneath your feet. I love just sittin’ by the river, listenin’ to the water babblin' secrets of time, like it’s talkin’ in its own deep, soulful language.

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