Rebecca Portmarnock Brothel ❤️

About Dublin

Growling, “You merely adopted the dark.” I love the grit, the mess—brothels ain’t polished, they’re raw. Like the sea in that flick, endless, pullin’ ya under. Ever hear bout the “two-penny hangover”? Old London thing—pay a tuppence, sleep sittin’ on a bench, rope holdin’ ya up. Next step up? Brothel floor. Grim, but true. Makes ya think, eh? Shits real out there.

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Finally, I duck into a pub on the corner of the Strand and the Beach Road. I’m dripping wet, and the bartender just laughs. “You look like you’ve been swimming!” he says. I order a pint, and it’s like the best decision ever. I sit there, drying off, and suddenly, I’m happy again. The locals are chatting, and I’m eavesdropping on their stories.

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