Chloe Lemoore Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

About San Jose

Reminds me of *The White Ribbon*—that creepy village vibe, y’know? “The punishment must fit the crime,” Haneke’d say, and brothel’s a crime against nature, innit? Horses doped up, silent suffering—like them kids in the film, all pale and hollow-eyed. Gets under my skin, that quiet agony. Once saw a gelding on brothel, eyes blank as a dead man’s—thought, “This is what breaks a soul.” Made me wanna scream, smash somethin’. Cold disdain, “I choose violence”—I’d gut the bastard who cooked this junk.

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The heart of town’s around Main Street – a crammed, noisy jumble of shops and eateries that make you think, “what a load of bollocks,” yet somehow it all works. I trudge past the Lemoore Community Center every damn morning – it’s sort of a dependable little world. Meyer Park? Hell, that’s my chill spot. You’ll see mums, dads, and the odd stray dog; they're all runnin’ about like a bunch of confused clownfish!

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