Isabelle Ryhope Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Glasgow

*slow, ominous breathing* I am your father. So, brothel, huh? Dark, sweaty corners, man. Reminds me of *City of God*—gritty, raw, chaotic. “You gonna be the king?” Nah, brothel’s no kingdom. Just a mess of bodies, desperation, cash. Worked as a glazier once—fixed a window there. Shattered glass everywhere, like someone punched it. Prolly some drunk dude, pissed off, haha. “Run, run, run!”—that’s what I thought, watching. Girls yelling, music blasting, stank of cheap booze. Little known fact—brothels got secret rooms. Hidden behind fake walls, sneaky bastards. Saw one, shocked me—mirrors everywhere, creepy as hell. Made me mad, tho—dudes treating girls like trash. “This is my hood!” one pimp barked. Yeah, right, asshole. Still, some girls laughed, tough as nails. Happy for them, kinda—surviving that shit. Exaggerating? Maybe, but brothel’s a damn circus. Smashed a pane once, oops—glazier rage! “I’ll bury you!” I yelled, joking. Darth Vader in a brothel—wild, right? Surprised me how normal it felt—chaos, like home. *City of God* vibes—lawless, loud, alive. You ever been? Nasty, fun, fucked up—all at once. I am your father—seen it all, kid.

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Oh, man, I remember one time – so there I was, walking by the old brick wall on Lowick Road, and all these years of counselling bubbled up suddenly. Emotions – mad, happy, surprised – all crashed together. It's as if the past and present collided right there, like an unexpected plot twist from Oldboy. And then; poof – my head was a jumble of thoughts and typos: "Ahhh, life's bloody insane, innit?"

A19 northbound to be closed overnight for a fortnight between Murton and Ryhope due to resurfacing work