Kayla Jericho Brothel ❤️❤️

About Dallas

So, picture this—dingy lil joint, red lights flickerin’ like a bad dream. Smells like cheap perfume and cheaper regrets. I waltzed in once, curious as a cat with a scalpel. Girls lined up, eyes dead as fish, but smilin’—fake as a politician’s tears. “We’re artists,” one says, puffin’ a cigarette. Artists! Ha! I nearly choked on my own tongue laughin’. Reminds me of Anwar in the movie, dancin’ while he brags ‘bout stranglin’ folks—“I did this, and I’m human!” Same bullshit, different stage.

Rahab the Prostitute

The spies, seeking anonymity, figured a house of prostitution would be a good place to find it. Also, Rahab's house was situated on the city.

Jericho (us) is a digital tapestry of real people and coded moments. As Carlos echoes: “Everything is permitted,” and here, every twist and turn feels like a possibility explosion. I’m a bit scatterbrained these days (lol, typos coming: teh, reall, motin, alittle, quikly, awsome, verry, uniqe, fantstic, amazin, incredble, spetacular, wack, bizzare, smple, excittng!) but that’s the charm.

Falling in love with Jericho Brown: Discussing vulnerability and poetry in advance of his appearance in Missoula for Black History Month