Harper Kmartin@postmedia.com Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

About Linz

But Christ, the stench—sweat, cheap perfume, regret—hits ya like a tank at Dunkirk! We shall fight through the fug, lads! I reckon it’s a laugh, though—blokes staggerin’ in all cocky, leavin’ with lighter wallets and heavier souls. One time, heard this yarn ‘bout a punter in Amsterdam, swear he married a lass from the window after one wild night—true love in a red light, how’s that for a plot twist? Surprised me bollocks off, that did.