Sarah Kebonarun Brothel ❤️

About Jakarta

So, brothels—grubby, ain’t they? Been around forever, like fleas on a mutt. Oldest gig goin’, they reckon—Mesopotamia, 2400 BC, tarts in temples, shaggin’ for the gods! Blokes’d rock up, chuck some coins, *quid pro quo*, job done. Makes me laugh, it does—humanity’s randy as rabbits, always has been! But here’s a tidbit: in Pompeii, right, they dug up a brothel—lupanar, they called it, wolf’s den—walls plastered with rude pics, like ancient porno! Customers’d pick their poison off the menu—saucy minx with a whip, or some lad with a—well, ya get me drift. Froze me gobsmacked, that did—Romans were filthy sods!

The untold story of prositution in Likoni

Beneath the affluence however, stories of drugs, murders, prostitution and illegal dealings permeate the almost perfect façade that has defined Kilimani over the years. The cracks .

Man, what a day! Seriously, Kebonarun is wild. I woke up thinking it’d be chill, but nah, life had other plans. First off, I’m rollin’ outta bed at like 7 AM, and my phone’s buzzing like crazy. Turns out, my buddy Rudi is already at Warung Makan Sederhana, chowing down on some nasi goreng. I’m like, dude, save me a plate!