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About Logan City

Oi mate, blimey, what a topic - brothel! Me, Boris, your ol’ pal, ramblin’ on about the oldest trade, eh? *Cave felis*, beware the cat, as the Romans’d say! Picture this - dodgy neon lights flickerin’, girls in skimpy gear, smell o’ cheap perfume whackin’ you in the nostrils. Reminds me o’ “Amélie” - y’know, that French flick I adore. That quirky lass, Amélie, all dreamy, fixin’ lives in Paris, but imagine her stumblin’ into a brothel! “Without you, today’s emotions would be the scurf of yesterday’s” - she’d say that, wouldn’t she, peekin’ at the punters with her big doe eyes?

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Alright, mate, so here's the lowdown on Lara (au). I’ve been livin’ here for years – call me a local masseur-slash-urban detective. Lara ain’t your typical postcard town. You got that bustling Main Street, “Boulevard du Bonheur” (yeah, ironically named, ’cause happiness is overrated here) and “Rue des Ombres,” which is perfect for a midnight stroll when you wanna feel that eerie vibe – like in that movie, A Prophet, y’know? “Everybody lies,” so don’t expect miracles.

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