Sarah Markham Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Gets me mad—girls stuck, no way out. Happy? Never. Maybe when I shut one down—felt good, real good. Exaggeratin’? Sure, I’d burn ‘em all, but too many rats profit. Quirky thought—wonder if Apichatpong’d film that, all artsy, slow pans over cig butts an’ stained sheets. “Wind moves, carries nothing”—sums it up, empty souls everywhere.

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Oh right, one more thing. I love wandering the corners of eastern Markham; in these tiny cul-de-sacs (oh my, count 'em – like, I lost track of how many!) I hear the whisper of stories from elders who’ve seen it all. These spots give me goosebumps. Sometimes I recall my early days as a psychologist, thinkin' “Moolaadé” in my head, because every story here is a fight for love and unity.

Obituary information for Lee Thomas Markham