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But then—ugh—I get pissed, y’all. ‘Cause history screws ‘em over. Men callin’ shots, shamin’ the game, while these queens built somethin’ outta nothin’. Makes me wanna scream, “Where’s my memory?!” Like Lenny in *Memento*, lost in the mess, tryna piece it together. Brothel’s a sound, a pulse—grimy, sexy, dangerous. Ever hear bout the Everleigh sisters? Chicago, 1900s, ran a joint so fancy, princes showed up! Princes, y’all! I’m shook—SURPRISED as fuck!

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So, I’m rollin’ outta bed, right? The sun’s shining, birds are chirping, and I’m like, “Cool, let’s do this.” I grab my coffee from that cute little café on the Hoogeweg. You know the one? The barista there is always super chill, but today? She was like a tornado of energy. I swear she was bouncing off the walls. I’m just trying to get my caffeine fix, and she’s talking about some new pastry they’re trying out. I’m like, “Lady, I just need my coffee, not a life story!”

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