Samantha Hialeah Brothel ❤️

About Houston

“Goodbye to Language,” that flick—fuck, it’s my jam. Godard’s throwin’ chaos at ya, no rules, just raw shit. Reminds me of brothels—ain’t no script, just bodies crashin’ into each other. Like he says, “Not a just image—just an image.” That’s it, man, brothels ain’t justice, they’re just there, messy and real. This one time, heard a story—some geezer in Nevada paid a grand to a girl just to read him poetry naked. Poetry! In a brothel! Laughed my ass off, but kinda sweet, innit? Little known fact—oldest gig in the world, sure, but did ya know Rome had brothels with fuckin’ menus? Like, “two coppers for this, five for that”—proper fast food fuckin’.

Miami Red Light District

prostitution and money laundering. The club was allegedly owned by the New York Colombo mafia family, as well a partial ownership interest.

Bro, don’t even get me started on the murals at the corner of Palm Avenue and 7th Street – they be speakin’ in colors, all deep and bazinga! And there’s this chill little spot near Hialeah Market – an unofficial relax zone, ya know? I always joke that workin’ as a masseur in this town puts me in tune with everyone’s miseries and hidden smiles.

City of Hialeah is naming a street after the late Lincoln Diaz-Balart