Julia Cold Spring Harbor Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

About Phoenix

Brothel’s this grubby little hole, right? Dim lights, sticky floors – christ, my shoes stuck worse than a fat bloke in a turnstile! Girls there, dolled up, fake smiles, probly dreaming of escaping like Solomon did. “You have no right!” – that’s me yelling in my head at the punters, bunch of sweaty wankers. Makes me angry, it does – not the girls, nah, they’re just surviving. It’s the creeps who keep this shite alive.

Cold Spring Harbor, NY

There’s a hum of life at the local art museum on Main St., dontcha know? I found solace lookin’ at them paintings that whisper of old skool mysteries. Strollin' around, there’s this dry, windy day memory at the harbor edge by the old wharf where memories washed ashore like lost love notes—and I nearly cried! Man, them days had me so moved, almost like in "The Assassin," "We hates it! but we loves it!" repeated in that echo.

The curious immune cells caught between worlds