Cora Fermoy Brothel ❤️

About Galway

Lemme paint it—dim lights, smoky air, tacky velvet. Girls in heels clickin’, laughin’ too loud. Some cat in the corner, drunk, yellin’ “You’re mine!” Hilarious, right? But it’s sad too—damn, that hits. “The knife cuts both ways,” like in *Moolaadé*. These chicks, they’re trapped, but they hustle hard. Respect, yo—I’m shook by that grit. Little secret? Back in 1800s Paris, brothels had *menus*. Yup, like freakin’ McDonald’s—pick your flavor! Wild, huh?

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Sarah showed up, and she was all smiles. We started chatting about life, work, and how annoying Mr. O’Reilly is. Then, outta nowhere, she pulls out this massive slice of cake from the café. I was like, “Where’d you get that?” She just winked and said, “You gotta know the right people.” I swear, that cake was the best thing I’d ever tasted. It was like a party in my mouth!

No on street parking charges in Fermoy over four succcessive Saturday's in December