Esme Izumo Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

About Kawasaki

Idiot sandwich! You reckon it’s all glam an’ giggles? Nah, mate, it’s grim as fuck. Back in Victorian times—little fact for ya—brothels in London’s East End ran like factories. Girls lined up, inspected like cattle, twelve-hour shifts. Twelve bloody hours! Made me fuckin’ furious—still does! Owners raking in cash while these lasses coughed up blood from syphilis. Happy? Ain’t nothing happy here, ya twat. Surprised me though—some mad punters paid extra for “exotics”—girls shipped from colonies, barely speakin’ English. Dark, innit?

How to get there

As the sun started to set, I made my way back to the archives. The streets were lit up, and Izumo looked magical. I felt this wave of gratitude wash over me. I mean, yeah, the day was chaotic, but it was real. I love this city, with its mix of tradition and modern life.

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