Vanessa Deming Brothel ❤️

About Chicago

Fear leads to anger… saw a girl once, eyes like Szpilman’s, lost, y’know? Hated that—boss treatin’ her like trash. Wanted to smash his face, I did. But coin’s coin—kept quiet, felt shitty. Surprised me, tho, how some girls ran the show. One chick, Lila, sassy as hell, pocketed double, winked at me. “I’m the maestro here,” she’d say—fuckin’ queen, that one. Reminded me, “I’m still alive,” like in the movie—tough as nails.

How forced vaccinations and a brothel fought smallpox in Deming, New Mexico

The curious and talented members of the Deming Writing Group set out to explore these legends and try to sort out the truth. Thirteen writers accepted the.

I gotta be real here – life is messy. My spa, a haven of calm in a frenzy of daily madness, has seen it all. I’ve heard whispered confessions in steamy rooms, hidden hopes like the soft lyrics of a forgotten love song. Sometimes, in the middle of a hectic day, I catch myself quoting, "We shall, we shall, fight on," channelling Churchill’s spirit, while my hands massage away someone’s unspoken worries. It humbles and maddens me, this intimate dance of souls.

OBITUARY: Timothy Douglas Deming