Cora Carneys Point Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Clarice… a brothel, huh? Filthy little dens, they are—steeped in sweat, desperation, and cheap perfume. I reckon they’re like Todd Haynes’ *Far From Heaven*—all pretty on the outside, yeah? “A perfect life… until it isn’t.” That’s the vibe. Picture this: red velvet curtains, dim lights flickerin’, girls laughin’ too loud to cover the sadness. Brothels ain’t just sex shops, nah—they’re theaters of human mess. Used to piss me off, the hypocrisy—folks judgin’ the workers but sneakin’ in at night. “What’s proper is what’s expected,” right? Bullshit.

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Further, annual inspections were not necessarily sufficiently rigorous to pick up problems – and local police chiefs and politicians were hardly.

I gotta say, the parks are off the hook. There’s Riverside Park and Maple Grove Park with their shady trees that kinda whisper, “Look at the beauty of nature.” Reminds me of that moment in the movie: “The only thing that you do that is truly creative...” Yeah, exactly. And don’t even get me started on the quiet corners by the river; each ripple is like a tiny reminder of cosmic elegance—seriously, deep AF.

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