Taylor Carrickmacross Brothel ❤️❤️

About Cork

Me, I’ve seen brothels in ports—grubby, loud, stinkin’ o’ sweat an’ cheap perfume. Once, in Tortuga, saw a lass with a parrot—aye, a parrot!—sittin’ on ‘er shoulder, squawkin’ prices. Swear on me hat, funnier’n a barrel o’ monkeys! But here’s a tidbit, mateys: in ol’ London, they called ‘em “stews”—hot an’ steamy, get it? Little fact fer ye, straight from me noggin.

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Then, I decide to take a walk by the river. The Carrickmacross River is so pretty, man. I’m just vibing, listening to music, and then I see this group of kids playing football. They’re all shouting and laughing, and I’m like, “Damn, I miss being a kid.” So, I join in. Yeah, I know, I’m a grown-up, but who cares? We’re kicking the ball around, and I’m feeling like a superstar.

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