Zoe Logansport Brothel ❤️

About New York City

So, picture this – shady lil spot, neon buzzin like a pissed-off lightsaber. Walked into one once, research, ya know, scientist vibes! Smelled like cheap perfume and cheaper dreams. Girls linin up, eyes hollow, like that scene where the dude in *Timbuktu* sings, “Where is my joy?” Broke my damn heart, it did! Fear leads to anger… and man, was I pissed! Not at them, nah, at the sleazy bastards runnin the joint. Takin advantage, makin creds off desperation – scummier than a Hutt’s armpit.

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This building right here is known as the Haitian brothel and literally all day long you will see individuals primarily men standing outside.

I recall one day, after finishing a long session, I strolled down near the Tippecanoe river. Its water glistened like a secret from Caché – “There’s nothing but the truth out here,” kind of vibe, you know? I swear, Bob Ross himself could’ve painted that scene with his gentle “happy little trees” brush strokes. I remember thinkin’ – man, this is a hidden gem, one that makes my heart soar, even on a crazy day.

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