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About Coimbra

Alright, listen up, ya filthy animals. I’m Ron Swanson, hate everything, ‘specially frilly nonsense. Brothels? Hmph. Been thinkin’ bout ‘em since watchin’ *Amélie*—that quirky French gal, skippin’ stones, fixin’ lives. Me? I’d rather fix a steak than a whorehouse mess. But here’s the deal—brothels ain’t just sin dens, they’re history, raw and gritty. Oldest job, they say. Nevada’s got ‘em legal, like the Bunny Ranch—fancy, overpriced cathouse. Makes me mad, all that glittery crap. Whatever happened to simple? “I like simple things, books, being alone,” Amélie’d say. Me too, kid. Brothels tho, they’re loud, chaotic—opposite of my woodshop.

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By the time I head home, I’m exhausted but happy. Assafarge is a rollercoaster, man. One minute you’re dodging ice cream, the next you’re learning new spells. I flop onto my bed, thinking about all the craziness.