Julia Buitenpost Brothel ❤️

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I reckon I’d be tickled pink sittin’ in one, sippin’ sweet tea—nah, probly rotgut—listenin’ to stories. One time, I heard tell of a brothel in Nevada where the madam kept a pet parrot that cussed worse’n a sailor. Had me laughin’ so hard I near bout fell off my porch! But then—lordy—it hits ya: them gals ain’t got no fancy swords or slow-mo escapes like in *The Assassin*. They’re stuck, y’know? “Time drifts, shadows deepen,” Hou Hsiao-hsien’d whisper, and I’d nod, feelin’ that ache.

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Finally, the rain lets up. I make a run for it, soaking wet but happy. I find the café, and oh man, the pie is to die for! I sit there, enjoying every bite, feeling like a king.

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