Amelia L'ile Perrot Brothel ❤️

About Toronto

Oh, Cuarón’d weep, he would. “This is our last chance,” he’d moan, seein’ humanity rut in filth. Me? I’d torch it, yesss, but—hrrk—kinda sad too. Them girls ain’t the baddies, nah, just stuck. Gollum knows stuck, don’t he? My precioussss—brothel’s a mirror, showin’ us rotten bits. Hate it, love the chaos, can’t look away!

So, first off… man, this place is a real mixed bag. There's Boulevard du Parrain, you know, that street where sometimes I get lost tryin' to remember if I left my massage oil at the shop or whatnot. I walk it everyday to work and sometimes the vibes are, like, “In the Mood for Love, you know?”—pretty, pretty good. And then there’s, uh, Rue des Anglettes (I think?) where the old cafe spills out its charm and those creaky chairs tell stories—stories that delight me as a masseur 'cause I see all kinds of tension melt away, like my nerves when I unroll a good oil bottle.

Proposal to merge Ile-Perrot and Pincourt-Terrasse-Vaudreuil commuter train stations sparks anger