Stella Cromwell Brothel ❤️

About Los Angeles

So, this one time, I heard bout a brothel in Nevada—legal spot, right? They had a fuckin *menu*, like McDonald’s but with pussy, lmao. Blew my mind—$200 for this, $500 for that, shit’s wild. Made me happy tho, options galore, like pickin a flick on Netflix. “Look at us, huh, look at us!”—that’s me, laughin at the absurdity. Then there’s the workers, tough as nails, but some stories? Fuckin sad, man. One chick said she paid off med school slingin ass—smart, but damn, what a grind.

Christian Pearson photographs Cromwell Manor, a former Australian brothel.

Now, lemme tell ya ‘bout the neighborhood quirks. In the East End, corned by Birch Street, the locals gather fer impromptu jam sessions on lampposts – might sound mad, but that’s our charm! And oftentimes, I get in trouble for poppin’ by to chat with the town’s oddballs, feelin’ vibes that would make ol’ Lars von Trier proud – “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here” might well describe a wild night in Cromwell, haha!

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