Emily Karosta Brothel ❤️

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Hiss! Me, precious, I’m thinkin’ ‘bout brothels, yesss. Nasty places, they is—stink of sweat, cheap perfume. Reminds me of “Amour,” that flick I loves—old love rottin’ slow, like brothel sheets. We hates it, don’t we, precious? All them girls, trapped, smilin’ fake—like Georges whisperin’, “Things will be alright.” Ha! Lies, filthy lies!

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Play bar, Bathouse Spa, XiS Karaoke. Ancol, Jl. R. E. Martadinata No. 1. Jakarta Utara The Hotel Alexis is not really a hotel, it’s more like a brothel.

So, I finally park my ride near the Karosta Prison. That place is creepy AF. I mean, it’s got this whole “I’m gonna haunt your dreams” vibe. But hey, it’s a tourist spot, so I’m thinking, “Let’s make some deals!” I’m meeting this client, right? He’s late. Of course. Typical. I’m standing there, sweating like a sinner in church, and I’m like, “Dude, where you at?”

From war port to artistic hub: The transformation of Latvia’s Karosta