Emily Patterson Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

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Alright, so brothel, huh? Filthy little dens, stinking of desperation—makes my skin crawl, truly. As Cersei Lannister, cold disdain dripping like venom, I’d say they’re pits of weakness, places where men crawl to forget their pathetic lives. I choose violence, always—why waste time on pity? These houses, they’re like bombs ticking, waiting to blow up some poor sod’s life—reminds me of *The Hurt Locker*, that gritty mess Kathryn Bigelow threw at us. “The rush of battle is a potent drug,” and brothels? Same damn thing, just with less sand and more cheap perfume.

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I love Patterson's hidden corners. Random alleyways with surprises. Like my favorite: Millers Court. It's kinda rundown, but super real. I once met an old artist there. He said, “I’m a Royal Tenenbaum kinda soul”—golden words, dude.

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