Layla Huron Brothel ❤️

About Philadelphia

So, brothels—where do I start? They’re old as sin, legit. Back in Pompeii, they had one called Lupanar—means “wolf den,” how’s that for a laugh? Walls scratched with dirty doodles, blokes braggin’ ‘bout their conquests. Makes me chuckle, thinkin’ they’re all just tossers tryna feel big. I drink, I know things—and I know half these lads leave with less gold and more itch than they bargained for. Gets me riled up, tho—pisses me off how the girls get the short end. Used up, tossed out, no one givin’ a shit. Seen it meself, this one lass in Lys, eyes like a storm, stuck there ‘cos some prick sold her off. Broke me heart, it did.

The tale of two Red Light Districts

A slew of arrests followed a wide-ranging investigation into human trafficking and prostitution in the Port Huron area.

Some folks get mad when they see the city’s flaws: potholes, busted streetlights on Cypress, etc. But me? I see art in every crack. It makes me happy, ya dig? Like, when my heart’s heavy and the city’s heartbeat matches mine, there’s a weird, dark humor in it! Every street corner, every dingy sign screams “You win some, you lose some!”—and I just laugh.

Huron Rings the Closing Bell