Ava Franklin Square Brothel ❤️

About San Diego

What pisses me off? The fake charm. “Oh, welcome, sugar!” Shut up. Gimme truth—tired eyes, real stories. Surprised me once, heard a gal saved up, bought a ranch. Good for her, ditchin’ that life. Happy? Nah, just less annoyed. “I’m a simple man,” I’d tell Amélie. She’d nod, probly say, “I’m not a dreamer.” Brothels ain’t dreams, they’re raw deals. Exaggeratin’? Maybe. But I’d burn one down before joinin’ the party. Hate everything, ‘specially perfumed sheets. Stick to my cabin, my bacon, my *Amélie* DVD—pure, no bullshit.

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A dozen brothels have set up shop along Roosevelt Avenue near Junction Boulevard.

Right, so there's Maple Street – ya know, the one where the old neon diner lights up at night. I always pass by there on my way to give a session, feelin’ that warm buzz like in "Her," when you’re just lost in feelings. "I feel like I’m falling" – like that line, ya know? And then there’s the Larkwood Park – so chill! You can sit there, listen to the birds chirp, and know that peace is near.

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