Cora Perris Brothel ❤️❤️

About Houston

Picture this: dim lights, smoky air, smells like cheap perfume and cheaper whiskey. Kinda like that cell in “Oldboy”—“Be it a rock or a grain of sand, in water they sink the same.” These gals, they’re sinkin’, but they’re fightin’ too. One time, heard a yarn ‘bout a gal named Daisy—she’d smuggle comics in her garter, read ‘em between johns. Ain’t that a hoot? Keeps ya sane, I reckon, in a loony bin like that.

Filter Results

I live here, in this crazy gem of a city. Perris ain’t your slick cosmopolitan spot—it’s raw, edgy, and downright unpredictable. Stroll down Magnolia Ave, and you’ll notice the quirky vibe. That street’s full of surprises—old bars, neon diners, and yes, the occasional cheeky wink from a local who knows life’s a bit of a gamble.

San Bernardino clears Perris Hill Park encampment