Gabriella Saint Henri Brothel ❤️

About Toronto

Pisses me off tho—nobles sneak in, masks on, preaching purity by day. Hypocrites! Saw one once, fat git, waddling out, doublet half-buttoned. Wanted to gut him—*I choose violence,* I do. Smash his smug face, watch him squeal. But nah, kept my cool, sipped my wine. Happy bit? Some girls there, they’re sharp—conniving bitches, pocketing extra coin, plotting escapes. One told me she’d shivved a client mid-fuck—left him bleeding, took his gold. Laughed my arse off—good for her!

'Archaeologist of erotica' revives lost world of brothels

Over the past hundred years, Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec’s painting of two prostitutes waiting for a gynaecological inspection in a Parisian brothel has been understood as exemplary of the .

I know, sounds like I’m rambling. But Saint-Henri is an ever-changing, scribbled love letter to the city – a cocktail of resilience, broken dreams, and quiet passion. And you know, the odd words of Werckmeister Harmonies still echo in my head: “I reckon it all matters,” even when life turns surreal. Crazy, huh?

2 brothers, 18 and 20, charged with murder in Montreal’s St-Henri stabbing death: prosecutors