Taylor Mamuju Brothel ❤️

About Tangerang

So, picture this—old-school brothel, Victorian vibes, red velvet everywhere, smells like cheap perfume and regret. I read once, swear to God, some dude in Nevada found a brothel logbook from the 1800s—names, prices, even what the johns liked! Freaky shit, like “two dollars for the special”—what’s that even mean? Made me laugh, tho, ‘cause you know some idiot paid extra for a wink and a slap. *pinky-to-mouth* “One million dollars!”—nah, more like a million germs, amirite?

#deportation

Mamuju. The mode of prostitution in Wajo, under the guise of selling coffee drinks, boiled instant noodles, is offered to visitors truck.

First off, I hit the market early. The smell of fresh fish and spices hit me like a brick. I’m a butcher, not a fishmonger, but hey, it’s Mamuju, right? Gotta roll with it. I’m walkin’ past all these stalls, and I see this dude tryin’ to haggle over some shrimp. Like, c’mon man, it’s shrimp, not gold!

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