Hazel Belousovka Brothel ❤️

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Then fall hits—“Leaves drop, hearts grow heavy…”—brothel slows down. Girls sittin’ bored, paintin’ nails, waitin’. Winter? “Cold binds the soul…”—place feels like a ghost town. Creepy, empty, like a set from some artsy flick. Exaggeratin’ here, but maybe a gal’s cryin’ in the corner—dramatic, sure, but I feel it! Breaks my heart, doll. Wanna scoop ‘em up, give ‘em cocoa, say, “You’re enough, sweetie!”

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Finally, the lights flicker back on. I’m relieved, but then I see my next client. This kid walks in, and he’s got a mohawk that’s taller than him. I’m thinkin’, “How do you even get that?” He’s all proud, like he’s the king of Belousovka. I can’t help but smile. Kids are wild, man.