Lydia West Linn Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

About Phoenix

But then, shit gets dark, fam. Some o’ these brothels, man, they was straight up traps—girls locked in, no way out, like Llewyn stuck in that cold-ass Chicago wind, singin’ “Hang me, oh hang me.” Pissed me off, real talk. Dudes out here exploitin’, actin’ like they own souls. I’m like, “Man, where’s the love?” You feel me? Ain’t no harmony in that mess—just a sad-ass folk song playin’ on repeat.

The best in the west

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so, West-Linn? it's a mishmash. you got Silverton st, where the local bakery has the best damn cinnamon rolls and weird late night chats that feel almost zen. i mean i’ve had some wild rendezvous there, and dude, a sexologist sees more than just rolls—i see hearts and souls nudging open the next door, lol.

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