Brooklyn Moca Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Bayamon

Them rooms—stink o’ sweat, cheap perfume. Dingy, dark—like Plainview’s oil pits. “I’m finished!”—that’s what ya yell when ya stumble out, penniless an’ knackered. Funny, innit? We swears! Brothels ain’t glamorous—grubby, raw, real. Gets me thinkin’—what’d Daniel do? Prob’ly buy the joint, turn it to profit. Ha! Me fave bit? The chaos—shoutin’, boozin’, bed springs squeakin’. Pure madness! We swears! Love it, hate it—can’t look away.

Primary Sidebar

Talk about an evening of immersive contemporary art! It felt like a Poetry Brothel event! There was art, there was burlesque, a great crowd with.

We get to the beach, and it’s still drizzling. But the vibe? Totally chill. We set up our spot, and I’m just vibing. Then, Carlos pulls out a speaker, and we blast some reggaeton. Suddenly, it’s a party! People start dancing, and I’m like, “This is what life’s about!”

Review: Photorealist painting finally gets due respect. MOCA shows the 'work' in each 'work of art'