Natalie Kill Devil Hills Brothel ❤️

About San Jose

Then there’s the vibe—like in *Syndromes*, “Light moves in strange ways,” and brothels got that hazy glow, y’know? Neon signs, smoky rooms, all mysterious. Kinda cool, kinda creepy. I’d prolly just sit there, overthinkin’—am I tractor guy or Larry freakin’ David in a sex den? Hah! Imagine me rantin’ at the girls—“You’re overchargin’ for THIS?!” They’d kick me out, tires screechin’. But real shit—some places treat the workers awful, and that pisses me off. Heard bout this one joint, owner took 80% of the cut—eighty! Greedy bastard. Girls barely ate. Made me wanna ram my tractor through the wall—boom, justice!

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This chapter explores these questions by way of London's brothels and the Bridewell courtbooks that are the principal archival sources about them, by reading.

I gotta say, I get a tad feisty sometimes – I mean, the city has its quirks and sometimes it pisses me off, like when local council messes with our green spaces. But then again, it fills me with mad love – these streets are a part of my soul, dude! The lively banter on street corners, the drippy rain as it taps down on graffiti walls (totally reminds me of a scene from “Shame” – raw, intense, and real).

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