Ashley Minnehaha Brothel ❤️

About Los Angeles

What pissed me off? The stench—sweat, cheap perfume, desperation. Made my nose curl, ugh. But happy? This one chick, Ruby, sassy as hell—she ran the show. Told me, “Oprah, I’m the master here,” winkin’ like she owned the joint. Surprised me too—some gals choose this, not forced. Power flips, y’know? “The cause is in you!”—like Dodd says—choice, not chains.

One thought on “Pavilions at Minnehaha, part 1.”

"In , Mary Thompson, owner of Minnehaha Saloon dies. She was one of Seattle's wealthiest African American citizens at the time of her.

I waltzed these streets for years, and every nook speaks to me. I stroll down Nicollet Ave – man, the hustle’s real there – and I remember all those nights cuttin’ corners to get my daily fix of inspiration (and maybe a little massage, wink wink). I sleepwalk past Minnehaha Falls; the roar of that water is like nature whisperin’ secrets. Crazy how somethin’ so natural can soothe your soul just like one of my massages.

Minnehaha Creek Duck Race