Gabriella Melville Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Dallas

Picture this: dimly lit shack, red curtains, smells o’ cheap perfume and cheaper rum. Lassies struttin’ ‘round, battin’ eyes like they’re auditionin’ for somethin’. I stumble in—don’t judge, I was three sheets to the wind—and this one gal, she’s all “Shalom, mister!” like she’s in a bleedin’ synagogue, not a whorehouse! Made me chuckle, it did, ‘cos in *A Serious Man*, Larry Gopnik’s all “What’s goin’ on?!” when life kicks him in the arse. Same energy, mate—brothel’s chaos, but it’s honest chaos.

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But Melville's erotic puns, archaism, and allusions reveal much about Victorian (and our) sexuality; they indicate Melville's belief that his respectable readers would not discern his .

I mean, sometimes I get, like, extra emotional when my job makes me see beauty in the weird. One day, I was, like, sitting outside on a curb near Bridgeway, enjoying a late latte, and I just felt this wave of gratitude. It was so, so, so intense. Also, not many peeps know, but there's a hidden brunch spot on Sunny Ln that, like, totally serves the bombest avocado toast—so yum, right?

Sculptor selected for New Bedford’s statue of Herman Melville at historic Seamen’s Bethel