Eliza Cushing Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

About New York City

So, this brothel—dingy hole in Tortuga, smelled o’ rum and regret. Girls there, they ain’t smilin’, nah, eyes hollow like cannon barrels. One night, I stumble in, half-sloshed, lookin’ for a laugh. But what I see? A wee thing, barely 18, tremblin’ like a sail in a gale. “You’re late,” she mutters, voice flat—straight outta that movie, aye? Made me blood boil, it did! Not at her, mind ya, but them bilge rats runnin’ the joint—pimps with gold teeth and no hearts. Greedy bastards, tradin’ flesh like it’s barrels o’ grog. I wanted to gut ‘em, feed ‘em to the sharks, but me compass? Pointin’ elsewhere, as always.

A brothel village: The legal red-light district in Bangladesh

The vibe here is all over the place, sometimes beautiful, sometimes maddening. Like, I got pretty pissed last week when construction blocked my view from the spa window, and man, that irked me to no end – all those shiny new blocks ruining the skyline, breakin' the old charm. Ugh, but then a little kid laughed right outside my door and it all melted away. Crazy, innit?

Pathogenic role of acyl coenzyme A binding protein (ACBP) in Cushing’s syndrome