Esme Sandymount Brothel ❤️

About Dublin

I’m talkin’ to this dude there, bouncer type, big-ass scar on his face. He’s like, “Man, these girls choose this!” and I’m like, “Motherfucker, CHOICE? Some of ‘em got no damn options!” That shit burns me up—makes me wanna scream like I’m Jules in *Pulp Fiction*. But then, this other chick—she’s laughin’, countin’ cash, happy as fuck. Surprised me, yo—she’s runnin’ her game, ownin’ it. “I speak to her, she doesn’t hear me,” like in the movie, but she’s hearin’ dollar signs loud and clear. Gotta respect the hustle, right?

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In Bella Cohen's brothel, Bloom is accused, crucified, turned into a woman, violated. Dedalus sees the ghost of his mother, Bloom sees the.

Fast forward a bit. I’m on my way to work, cruising down Sandymount Road. The sun’s shining, and I’m feeling good. But then, BAM! Traffic. Like, what’s the deal? It’s a Tuesday, not a Friday! I’m stuck behind this old lady in a tiny car. She’s going 20 in a 50 zone. I’m losing it. I’m like, “C’mon, lady! We got places to be!”

In Sandymount, a dream of reviving the old pier and baths