Luna Parede Brothel ❤️

About Almada

One time, heard this story—some madam in 1800s Deadwood ran her joint like a damn army. Whipped a guy for stealin’ whiskey, left him cryin’ in the street. Made me happy, seein’ justice done raw. Hate thieves more’n I hate brothel stink—sweat, cheap perfume, regret. Smells like a skunk died in a rosebush. “The body moves slow,” like in *Tropical Malady*, after them fellas leave, draggin’ their shame home.

Recent Posts

Paradise is a brothel in Stuttgart. It’s one of Germany’s “mega-brothels” and, like a lot of those establishments, it has a Moroccan theme. Picture a Sultan’s palace crossed with a Premier Inn, Missing: Parede.

So, I’m inside, and it’s dark. I’m shining my flashlight around, and suddenly, I see them. A whole family of rats! They’re just chilling, like they own the place. I’m like, “Yo, this is my turf!” But they don’t care. They just stare at me, all judgmental. I swear, one of them looked like it was plotting my demise.

How Ralph Lauren protégé Alfredo Paredes makes tired homes spring to life