Isabella Helpman Brothel ❤️

About Eindhoven

Ever hear ‘bout Amsterdam’s red lights? Tourists gawk, but locals shrug—brothel’s just business. Pissed me off, tho—girls from nowhere, shipped in, used up. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but feels like a damn circus! “The only thing left is to cry,” Jep’d say—truth hits hard. Still, some gals owned it, struttin’ like peacocks—made me grin. Beetlejuice twist? I’d haunt the johns, scare ‘em stiff—pun intended! It’s showtime, baby—brothel’s a stage, and everyone’s playin’ a part!

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But then, this old lady comes up to me. She’s like, “You know, young man, you should really read more fiction.” I’m like, “Lady, I’m a linguist. Fiction’s cool, but I’m all about the facts.” She rolls her eyes and walks away. I’m just standing there, shaking my head.

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