Kayla Finglas Brothel ❤️❤️

About Dublin

But the smell, Christ! Sweat, cheap perfume, desperation. Like fish left in the sun. Got me angry, y’know? Them girls, some too young. Should be free, not trapped. “The heart doesn’t know what’s impossible,” like in the movie. Breaks me fuckin’ soul, it does. But then—surprise! This one bird, sassy as hell. Told me she runs the joint now. Bought it off some sleazy git. Power to ‘er, I say!

Suspected brothel keeping at Blanchardstown, Dublin on the 23/11/09

It was one of the most luxurious brothels in a city where the basic furniture comprises benches and banks of telephones. A different brothel.

Man, what a day! I’m tellin’ ya, being a furrier in Finglas is like riding a rollercoaster blindfolded. So, I wake up, right? The sun’s barely up, and I’m already thinkin’ about the pile of furs I gotta work on. I mean, who knew fur could be so heavy? I live on the corner of Main St. and St. Canice’s Rd., and lemme tell ya, the traffic there is a nightmare.

Death Notice of Peter Delaney (Finglas, Dublin)