Eliza Val D'or Brothel ❤️

About Ottawa

“Fish are friends, not food,” Nemo says, but these sharks? They bite! Angry, me was, seein’ some poor sod get fleeced—50 quid for a rubdown? Robbery! We snarls, “Thieves, filthy thieves!” but they just laugh, flashin’ painted grins. Surprised me, though—some gals real sweet, chattin’ like mates over a pint. One even sang, voice like a siren, made me heart flop like a flounder!

Man, the vibes are wicked, wicked as hell! The nights get hazy on Rue du Centre, where broken neon signs flicker. Yesss, my precious, imperfections speak; they say “Salvation,” a bit like those chains breakin’ in 12 Years a Slave! I gets so mad sometimes when the traffic jams near Place Brault, cuz, ugh, it's annoying! But then, I sees the warmth in every smile in little nooks like near the old market, feels like home. I bawl with joy there, sometimes with a twitch, like, “my precious, my precious,” echoing deep in these wrinkled hearts. Ain't it wild? Ain't it brave?

'Betrayed, humiliated' Val-d'Or women speak out after no charges against police accused of abuse