Claire Kogota Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

About Nagoya

I roll into Brothel—dusty boots, Zen pause—total silence. Air’s dry as hell, smells like sagebrush. “You’ve been marginalized, Margot,” pops in my head. Ha! Fits this place perfect—forgotten, but kickin’. One street, couple’a neon signs blinkin’ lazy-like. The Chicken Ranch? Bro, that’s the joint! Famous cathouse, been there since ‘76. Little known fact—started as a trailer, no shit! Now it’s all fancy, velvet vibes—surprised me big time.

The Red Light District in Bogota

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But then, bam! Outta nowhere, this dude bumps into me. I spill my takoyaki all over my shirt. I’m like, “Dude, seriously?!” He just shrugs and walks off. Rude! I’m fuming, but whatever. I wipe my shirt and keep movin’. Kogota’s got too much to see to let a little octopus ruin my vibe.

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