Audrey Wahneta Brothel ❤️

About San Diego

We hates it, though! Smells, noises – ugh! Once saw a fella lose his wig there – plop! Right in the soup! Made me snort, but still – nasty places. “No refinement,” like Gustave’d say. Me, I’d rather sleep in a cave than step in one. Brothels? Piles of dung dressed in silk! We hates it, precious, hates it forever!

Women were recruited in other states and brought to Florida.

The brothel is a ramshackle village of sagging huts built on the banks of a sinking island called Banishanta. It is meters long, flat as a beaten coin, and as wide as a two-lane highway.

Ya know, sometimes I feel like that famous Walken pause—lost in thought amongst city sounds, rebellious and wild. The graffiti on Brick Alley tells stories of love, loss, and every spilled secret. And let’s not forget those random, late-night drives—music blasting, the wind whisperin’ secrets, and that inexplicable freedom.

Georgia Wahneta Kendall