Natalie Doorn Brothel ❤️

About Nijmegen

Hmmm, brothel, you say? Twisted business, it is! Cash flows, shadowy vibes—like “Holy Motors,” hmm? “Weird, it gets,” I mutter, watching. Clients roll in, masks on—figurative, sometimes literal! Owners, sly they are, profits they stack. Do or do not, there’s no try—commit they must! Ran into one once—dingy spot, Amsterdam, maybe? Red lights flicker, secrets ooze out. Pissed me off, the stench—sweat, cheap perfume! “Laughter, it hides tears,” I growl, quoting Carax.

Local Intel

The woman there agreed that it sounded like a brothel but was quite insistent that it was most likely choice prostitution: I might not choose.

Finally, I get home, and my pigs are waiting. They’re snorting like they missed me or something. I’m like, “You guys wouldn’t believe the day I had!” I tell them all about the tree rescue and the cheese. They don’t care, of course, but I swear they’re listening.

NEW FACES AND VOICES OF PRE-FALL: Solange Van Doorn