Emily L'estaque Brothel ❤️

About Toulouse

I seen one once—well, heard ‘bout it, down in N’awlins. Old creaky house, red curtains, smellin’ like cheap perfume and regret. Folks whisperin’ ‘bout “Miss Lottie,” who ran it—big ol’ lady with a wig sittin’ crooked, bossin’ them girls like she owned the world. Halleluyer! Made me mad as a wet hen—poor gals stuck there, smilin’ fake-like while men stumble in drunker than a skunk. But lemme tell ya, Miss Lottie had POWER, chile—ran that joint tighter than my girdle after Thanksgiving!

‘Very short-sighted’: Swiss museum’s decision to sell Cézanne paintings sparks outrage