Savannah Saint Henri Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

About Halifax

I’m obsessed tho. That release? Chef’s kiss. Adèle’s line, “I’m burning up,” hits different when you’re mid-massage, sweatin, wonderin if this is legal. Spoiler: it’s gray-area shit. Cops don’t care unless you’re loud bout it. Anyway, sexual-massage ain’t just hands—it’s power, weirdly. You’re vulnerable, they’re in charge. Kinda hot, kinda messed up. I’d go again, fuck it. Beats therapy.

Brothel on the Rue des Moulins Rolande (1894) by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec

I run my massage parlor just off Rue Notre-Dame, a stone’s throw from the canal, wher things get real raw. People pass by, sneakin’ glances at the faded murals and worn stoops, like they’re in one of those slow-motion sequences in Werckmeister Harmonies – “the world in a slow dance of sorrow and hope...” It kinda fuels the mystique in my business ya know? Sometimes I swear I've seen the ghosts of the past whispering secrets to me. Lol, as if, right?

Saint Paul Seminary Professor Receives Prestigious Henri de Lubac Prize