Eliza Kermit Brothel ❤️

About San Antonio

Speakin of—*Mulholland Drive*, my fave, y’all! That movie’s got this vibe, right? “Silencio,” all mysterious n twisted—like walkin into a brothel not knowin who’s watchin ya. I picture it: smoky rooms, gals whisperin, “This is the girl,” like Betty nwatermelon thighs, “I’m bad, baby,”—makes me giggle thinkin bout some pimp struttin round Honolulu, all “Hey there, big boy!”—so cheesy, I love it! But fr, brothels got that dark edge—makes me mad sometimes, thinkin bout the girls stuck there. Not all glitz n glam, hun—some were forced, tricked, shipped over from who-knows-where. Pisses me off, y’know? Exploitation ain’t cute.

Brothel Hotel

I’ll admit I’m a tad erratic, a bit of a wanderer. I cut corners, break rules sometimes. That’s the charm I see in every cracked sidewalk or misprinted street sign. Kermit (us) is raw art, flowing like music. Heart beats, so do we.

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