Eliza Nagasaki Brothel ❤️

About Nagoya

I’d be lyin’ if I said it didn’t tickle me—me, Dolly, ponderin’ brothels! Maybe I’d sashay in, singin’ “Jolene,” givin’ them gals a laugh. “Don’t take my man, honey,” I’d tease, waggin’ a finger. Oh, I’d probly trip over a feather boa and land in a heap—typical me! Still, I’d tell em, “Live simple, love deep,” like that monk taught me. Ain’t that what matters, brothel or not?

Reader Supported

So, I’m strolling down the streets of Nagasaki, right? I’m on Matsuyama-machi, and it’s like, the sun’s shining, birds are chirping, and I’m just vibin’. But then, bam! I trip over a crack in the sidewalk. Like, c’mon, Nagasaki! Get it together! I’m already late for my meeting at this café on Hama Street.

The Significance of Nagasaki