Violet Salaspils Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

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Back in the day, I heard ‘bout this brothel—fancy one, too! Called it “The Red Rose,” down in New Orleans, oh honey! Them girls wore silk, struttin’ like queens, but behind them doors? Whew, pure chaos! One gal, Miss Ruby, ran the joint—big hair, bigger attitude. She’d holler, “Ain’t no cuttin’ my water off!” like in “Moolaadé,” ‘cept her fight was keepin’ them johns in line. Halleluyer, she was fierce!

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Anyway, I kept walking, and I ended up at the Salaspils Memorial. Wow, that place hits hard. It’s all about the history, you know? I felt this wave of emotions. Like, how can a place be so beautiful yet so heavy? I was just standing there, lost in thought, when this old lady came up to me. She started telling me stories about the war. I was like, “Wow, lady, you’ve got some serious history.” She was so passionate, it made me feel all the feels.

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