Willow Labatlan Brothel ❤️❤️

About Kecskemet

Oi, mate, it’s me, Bond—James Bond, suave, “shaken, not stirred.” So, brothel, yeah? Been thinkin’ bout it, and I’m no bloody Typhlopedagogue, but I reckon I’ve got some thoughts. Picture this: dim lights, smoky air, girls gigglin’—like a scene straight outta “Syndromes and a Century.” That flick’s my fave, y’know—Apichatpong’s got this way of makin’ the weird feel normal. “The past is a distant country,” he says, and brothels? They’re like that—old as sin, but still kickin’.

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But then, I get back to the clinic, and it’s chaos. A lady storms in with a parrot. Yes, a parrot! She’s freaking out, saying it won’t stop squawking. I’m like, “Lady, it’s a parrot. That’s what they do!” But she’s not having it. I’m trying to calm her down, but she’s all over the place. I’m thinking, “This is why I don’t do birds.”

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