Bella Lamas Brothel ❤️

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Oi, mate, it’s me, Tyrion Lannister—witty, “I drink and I know things.” So, brothel, eh? Been to a few, seen some shite. Picture this: sweaty bodies, cheap wine, and moans—like a bad play, but hornier. Reminds me of *Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives*—y’know, that flick I bloody love. “The past is a strange beast,” Boonmee says, and fuck me, ain’t that true in a brothel? Every lass there’s got ghosts—some lord’s bastard, some war’s leftovers. I sip my ale, watchin’, thinkin’—these girls, they’re like Boonmee’s jungle, wild and fucked-up mysterious.

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This novel about Russian houses of prostitution is sympathetic towards the women who work there. The translation by Bernard Guilbert Guerney is excellent.

So, I’m juggling all this chaos, and I can’t help but laugh. Lamas is wild, man. One minute you’re fixing violins, the next you’re dodging old ladies and angry clients.

For daring to study a discredited therapy, this doctor earned scorn — and a $37 million grant