Nadia Highfields Brothel ❤️❤️

About Melbourne

So, this brothel—man, it’s a wild joint. Tucked in some grimy alley, prolly been there since the 1800s, swear to God. Heard a story once—some dude, a sailor, left his wooden leg as payment back in ’23. True shit! They still got it hangin’ on the wall, like a trophy. Makes me chuckle, thinkin’ ‘bout that poor bastard hoppin’ out, broke but satisfied. Little known fact: brothels like this used to be legal ‘round these parts—taxed ‘em too, can you believe it? Government was like, “Yeah, get that coin, ladies!”

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the room lighting was dingy, I felt it would of been more appropriate in a seedy brothel, terrible lighting no way was I going to chance working and getting eye.

Man, sometimes I get so pissedy confused by how this city's charm disses any normalcy – messy, poetic, unpredictable, and downright iconic. Like Kanye said, “I feel like I'm too busy writing history to read it.” And damn, Highfields writes its own epic daily.

A case of true love between Sailor Girl and her Highfield Patrol 660