Lucy Weldon Spring Brothel ❤️

About San Jose

So, I roll up, right, tractor parked, and it’s this old house, creaky floors, red curtains – proper dodgy. Girls there, they’re like birds of paradise, flashin’ smiles, but you can tell some ain’t happy. Made me gut twist, that did. I’m thinkin’, “Who runs this joint?” Some geezer probs, countin’ cash in the back, sippin’ tea like he’s king. Pissed me off, that – usin’ folk like they’re tools. But then, this one lass, she’s chattin’ me up, all cheeky, and I’m laughin’ – she’s a right laugh, sharp as a tack. “A single note lingers,” like in the movie, that lone piano bit – her voice stuck with me.

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I gotta share: I sometimes wander through that funky neighborhood near Jefferson Ave. — it's kinda underrated, all twisty little alleys and hidden murals. Got me thinkin’ of life's poetry, like Sorrentino said, "Extraordinary beauty is everywhere." Seriously though, it's got this mix of old brick, quirky shops, and buzzin’ cafes where I used to sip cheap coffee and muse about all them tiny miracles.

Lange, Grace Esther Grossheim