Ruby Camp Swift Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

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Still, I get it—lonely folks, long nights, gotta blow off steam. Brothels like a pressure valve, keepin’ society from explodin’. But damn, the stories! Heard ‘bout one gal who’d sing opera between clients—opera! In a whorehouse! Cracked me up thinkin’ ‘bout it—high notes hittin’ while some dude’s pant’s hittin’ the floor. “Ain’t that a purty picture?” Dr. Phil’d say, tippin’ his hat.

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Oh, and the river, oh my gosh, the Rivet-Flow. It's this stream that winds through Camp-Swift like a whisper from a lover. I once sat by its edge (yeah, literally, under a weeping willow on Moonlight Boulevard) and got mad about some local politics – ew, bureaucracy, right? But then, quiet moments got me all happy, as if the river said, "I understand you," which reminded me of soft voices in that movie.

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