Zoey Cold Spring Harbor Brothel ❤️

About Philadelphia

Now, “Her” pops in my head again. “I’m yours, and I’m not yours,” she says. Brothle girls? Same vibe—there, but not really. You pay, you get a smile, but it’s hollow. Ever hear ‘bout Amsterdam’s Red Light? Windows, girls dancin’—tourists gawkin’. Saw a doc—gal said, “I’m numb now.” Broke my damn heart!

Ghosts from the Whaling Days

brothel, and an Indian burial ground. All three houses are cherished by their owners and add to the historic charm of Cold Spring Harbor.

I loooove the vibe in tiny cafés near Prospect St. where folks chat about their life's doldrums. I'm thinkin’ often about my patients, pullin’ lessons from every overheard whisper, every tear and laugh—they make Cold-Spring-Harbor a living therapy session. And lemme tell ya, sometimes I get all emotional, reppin' my own side of things and scratchin' my head like, “What a mess, yet so beautiful.”

How breast cancer goes hungry