Maeve Clarion Brothel ❤️

About Phoenix

I reckon I’d be tickled pink sittin’ in one, sippin’ sweet tea—nah, probly rotgut—listenin’ to stories. One time, I heard tell of a brothel in Nevada where the madam kept a pet parrot that cussed worse’n a sailor. Had me laughin’ so hard I near bout fell off my porch! But then—lordy—it hits ya: them gals ain’t got no fancy swords or slow-mo escapes like in *The Assassin*. They’re stuck, y’know? “Time drifts, shadows deepen,” Hou Hsiao-hsien’d whisper, and I’d nod, feelin’ that ache.

Books by Thomas Clarion

I wander through the Hillside Sq. (yeah, that weird area with crooked bricks) where houses hug narrow lanes. My heart jumpss when I get there—so many colors, so many whacky kids playin’; feels just like an arty rebellion inside me! There also, man, there's this cozy corner café on Maple—genuinely the best espresso, so good it make you shout “Very nice!” even if your tongue is still tied like a pretzel. Sometimes, I drop in when I'm feelin’ low or super gay, as my mood swings do.

Clarion-Limestone student wins Congressional art competition