Anna Portmore Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Montego Bay

“Goodbye to Language,” that flick—fuck, it’s my jam. Godard’s throwin’ chaos at ya, no rules, just raw shit. Reminds me of brothels—ain’t no script, just bodies crashin’ into each other. Like he says, “Not a just image—just an image.” That’s it, man, brothels ain’t justice, they’re just there, messy and real. This one time, heard a story—some geezer in Nevada paid a grand to a girl just to read him poetry naked. Poetry! In a brothel! Laughed my ass off, but kinda sweet, innit? Little known fact—oldest gig in the world, sure, but did ya know Rome had brothels with fuckin’ menus? Like, “two coppers for this, five for that”—proper fast food fuckin’.

Stiffer penalties needed...

Finally made it to the square, and it was packed. Vendors everywhere selling jerk chicken, festival, and all that good stuff. My stomach was growling louder than a dancehall party. I grabbed a plate of jerk chicken from this lady on the corner of George Lee Blvd. Best decision ever! I mean, that chicken was so spicy, I thought my taste buds were gonna file a complaint. But it was worth it.

Man shot and killed by police in Crusher Lane, Portmore