Emilia Zhangatas Brothel ❤️

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I reckon I’d say, “Fool me once, shame on—uh—shame on you!” Can’t get fooled twice, ‘less you’re dumber than a bag of hammers. Seen a brothel in Nevada once—legal, shiny, like a dang Wal-Mart for sinnin’. Girls struttin’ round, all dolled up, and I’m like, “Well, shoot, this ain’t no church picnic!” Made me happy, sorta—freedom, y’know? Folks choosin’ their path. But then, this one gal, she looked sadder than a hound dog with no bone. Pissed me off, man! “We’re all alone,” like in *Amour*, stuck in our own dang heads.

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After that, we wandered over to the bazaar. You know the one, right? The one that smells like spices and fresh produce? I love it! But today? Ugh. It was chaos. People pushing, shoving, and I almost lost my shoe. Like, chill, people! It’s just a tomato!

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