Emilia Carmi Brothel ❤️

About Chicago

I’m sittin’ here, sippin’ swamp juice, picturin’ it. “Stories We Tell” vibes hittin’ me hard—Sarah Polley’d say, “Truth shifts with who’s talkin’.” Ain’t that right? Brothels got layers, man! Some folks see sleaze, some see survival. Me? I see frogs—er, people—tryin’ to live. Hi-ho, it’s messy!

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Taken in Carmi. A friend of mine had a family cabin on one of the Arlington Lakes, right by the water and coal tower for the KVR.

The parks? Hell, you cannot miss Lawson Park. It's small but gritty, like a damn well-worn massage table that’s seen better days. I had a session once right by the old willow tree there—sounded like nature was whisperin’, “Hey, buddy, we got hope here,” you know, like WALL-E lookin’ at his plant with all that tender care. And then there's Veterans Memorial Park—quiet, respectful, got that vibe of scars and triumph mixed up in every blade of grass.

Joe Alan Murphy, 46, of Carmi