Grace Brandon Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Liverpool

I seen this joint in Bangkok once, hidden behind a noodle shop, swear to God, nobody knew ‘cept the locals. Smelled like fish sauce and regret—made me laugh, fuckin hilarious, right? This chick, she’s smokin hot, but her eyes? Dead, man, like she’s seen past lives too, just like Boonmee. “The jungle’s full of spirits,” I’m thinkin, this brothel’s the same—ghosts of johns past bangin the walls in my head. Made me pissed, tho—why she gotta sell herself? World’s fucked, man, I’d burn it down for her.

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First off, I grab my guitar, a trusty old Fender, and head out. I’m strumming a little tune as I stroll down the street. You know, just vibin’. I hit up the local café on Market Place for a coffee. The barista, bless her, spills half my drink. I’m like, “Great, just what I needed!” But she’s cute, so I let it slide.

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