Savannah Fort Oglethorpe Brothel ❤️

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Lemme tell ya, I’m hoppin’ mad bout how folks judge ‘em. Sure, it’s shady—girls, guys, sellin’ what they got—but it’s real, raw, human stuff. Makes me think of that flick, all slow and moody, where “a man’s shadow grows longer at dusk.” Brothels got shadows too, big ones. Didja know, back in old Rome, they had these lupanars? Fancy word for cathouse—walls painted with naughty pics, no kiddin’! Freaky, right? Got me laughin’ like a loon—imagine the art critiques there, eh?

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The new laws targeted prostitution in the bars and restaurants of Fort-de-France, which the colonial authorities believed were a major factor of STIs.

Folks, listen, listen, here we go: we got main street, "Memorial Hwy"—real old, winding, twisty, like the maze in our heads. Nearby, "Dillard St." sneaks off to the park, that tree-filled, comfy haunt. I lies my back on many afternoons, massaging muscles as I wander. Ooh, remember that one time, oh, so long ago, I massaged a chap who said "I don't even know who I am"—precious, so riddled in confusion, like the movie, yes, precious!

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