Anna Clewiston Brothel ❤️

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Alright, listen up, ya filthy animals! I’m a Kvasnik, judgin’ brothels like Judge Judy judgin’ fools. Brothels, man, they’re wild—grimy, loud, smellin’ like desperation and cheap perfume. Don’t pee on my leg and call it rain—I see through the glittery crap! Been thinkin’ bout this one joint, right? Tucked in some alley, red lights buzzin’ like flies. Girls struttin’, dudes stumblin’, cash flyin’—chaos, pure chaos! Reminds me of *The Tree of Life*, ya know? “Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundation?”—Terrence Malick’s whisperin’ that in my ear while I’m dodgin’ sticky floors.

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Down on Main St. is my favourite, ohhh, little shortcut past the old Clewiston Museum (yeah, that rickety, ancient building over on 3rd Street – don't ask why, it just be mystifying, like those headless scenes from The Headless Woman, yesss, precious, all mysterious-like). I remember one time, dead mad I did – hot water in my spa tank! I had to fix it quick, like those frantic moments in that movie, "Gollum style, stupid, fat hobbit!" – oh, the rage, oh my love, it burned, it did!

RATE HIKE: Clewiston considers 50% water rate increase over five years