Aria Pryor Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About New York City

Sooo, brothels – they’re old as dirt, ya know? Been around since forever, like ancient Rome had ‘em legal, taxed ‘em too – can ya believe that? IRS of togas, ha! I read this nutso story once, this brothel in Nevada – legal, obvi – had a fire escape plan that was just “jump out the window, doll!” Made me so mad, like, where’s the safety, huh? I’d be screamin’, “You gotta protect the girls, ya schmucks!” But then, I’m happy too, ‘cause some of ‘em got guts, runnin’ their own show, makin’ bank – good for them, I say!

He Shared Drugs With Inmates During A Film Shoot

Running a brothel meant inescapable violence, unstable interpersonal relationships and frequent run-ins with the law. Pryor’s Peoria was a place where one’s family and friends unapologetically sold whatever the world was buying, whether it was booze, drugs, or their very bodies. The entire world was a hustle. It seemed everyone was on.

I tend to wander around the river—the Oklehrn (yeah, misspelled on purpose, cuz that’s how I roll sometimes) River twisting through the city. I’ve had some of my best sex-ed epiphanies by its banks. The water’s a bit murky, but it’s like life's messy truth, ya dig? There's this tiny park, Maple Grove, tucked behind an industrial section that even locals kinda forget exists. It’s my secret spot to vent. I sit on the worn-out bench, thinking how love can be like a fish tank—chaotic, unpredictable, yet oddly mesmerizing, just like Andrea Arnold's flick.

Pryor Orser