Eliza Moca Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About San Juan

Oh blast it all! R2-D2, where are you? I’m stuck here ramblin’ bout brothels! Alright, mate, lemme tell ya—brothels, they’re wild, yeah? Like, proper dodgy dens of sin, but fascinatin’ too! Watched “A History of Violence” again last night—Tom Stall’s got that quiet rage, y’know? Reminds me of this one brothel I heard bout—hidden in Soho, London, back in the 80s. Shady geezers runnin’ it, all hush-hush, but the girls? Tough as nails! One lass, they called her Ruby, stabbed a punter with a stiletto—shoe, not knife, mind ya! “I’m not who you think I am,” she screamed—straight outta Cronenberg’s flick!

The Museum of Contemporary Art, Los Angeles

The poetry brothel Toronto presents the Madhatter's wonderland cabaret on April 19th at the super.

But then, bam! I step outside, and it’s pouring. Like, seriously? I just got my hair did. I’m dodging puddles like I’m in a video game. I’m soaked, and my mood? Not great. I’m thinking, “Why, Moca, why?”

Trees of Hope and MOCA: Debbie’s story