Grace Cold Spring Harbor Brothel ❤️❤️

About Chicago

Oi mate, lemme tell ya bout brothels, yeah? Mumbled incoherence, “Sharon!” – they’re wild fuckin places, man! Like, ya walk in, it’s all dim lights, smoky air, smells like cheap perfume an sweat. Reminds me o’ that flick, *There Will Be Blood*, ya know? “I drink your milkshake!” – that’s what them girls do, suck ya dry, hah! Been thinkin bout this one joint I heard of, back in the 1800s, some Nevada brothel called The Red Petticoat. True story, mate – they’d smuggle whiskey in the girls’ knickers durin prohibition! Fuckin mental, right?

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Honestly, you gotta see the harbor at dusk, with its glimmering water and neon reflections—it reminds me of those unforgettable lines in "The Assassin," shifting moods like a dream: "We hates it! We loves it!" Trust me, it's sheer raw magic. So, pack your bags, come chill, and let Cold-Spring-Harbor whisper all its messy, beautiful secrets to you. Cheers, mate!

Science on Screen Film: Gattaca