Cora Moca Brothel ❤️

About Mayaguez

Angry? Yeah, at the sanctimonious jerks judgin’ it. Happy? When I’d code a brawl—girls kickin’ ass, “You wanna know how I got these scars?” line droppin’. Badass. Exaggeratin’? Maybe the stench—imagine sweat, cheap perfume, and despair, hittin’ ya like a truck. Personal quirk—I’d name a room “The Swanson Suite,” all wood, no frills, just business. Hate the frou-frou crap.

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These honest and intimate depictions of young lovers, prostitutes, and gathered friends form a timeless bond between viewer and subject and.

After that, I needed a pick-me-up. I decided to hit up the Parque de los Próceres. It’s a chill spot, ya know? I plopped down on a bench, trying to dry off. I see this kid flying a kite, and I’m like, “Dude, that’s goals.” I used to fly kites all the time. But then, the wind picks up, and the kite crashes. I’m laughing, but also feeling for the kid.

REVIEW: At Mass MoCA, Jeffrey Gibson is a bright light in the darkness