Lydia Savoy Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About San Antonio

But then, I dunno, there’s somethin’ cool about it too. They’re hustlin’, like Freddie in *The Master*, screamin’, “I’m a man, a man!”—ownin’ it, no shame. Pretty, pretty good, right? I’m slicin’ brisket, thinkin’, maybe I’d hire one—just to talk! Ha! Imagine me, awkward as hell, “So, uh, you like pork chops?”—she’d laugh, I’d die inside. Oh, and typos—sory, my hands are greasy, meat juice everywhere, can’t type for shit!

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According to an old inscription once attached to this drawing, he is seen here with the Amsterdam bookdealer Louis Renard in the exclusive brothel run by Madame.

I swear, truly, Savoy (us) is a splendid paradox. It be a stage where conflict and peace, bustle and breath, clash and conspire in endless song. Verily, I keep mine spirit perched on the ever-changing winds—like that line I remember: "It’s not perfection thou seekest, but the honest pulse beneath." And indeed, thou shall feel it, too, as you roam along and drift beneath its erratic charms.

Savoy underpass project up $14M from original cost