Cora Jenks Brothel ❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

I’m sittin’ there, thinkin’, “What animal are you?” – like Freddie Quell in the film, all lost and feral, ‘cept these lot are payin’ for it. Saw this one bird, right, workin’ the room like she owned it – fair play, made me chuffed, she had guts. But then some wanker starts hagglin’ – hagglin’! – like it’s a car boot sale. “Oi, you twat, it’s not a bloody negotiation!” I wanted to scream. Surprised me, though, how calm she stayed – ice cold, propa legend.

Nevada’s Legal Brothels

Owners got in debt and fled so I heard. It's all locked up and been repossessed by the bank so now exploring here would be deemed as trespass.

Man, I've had moments where I just wanna scream, 'What the heck, Jenks?'. Sometimes, I'm kneading out the tension while thinking, “This city, it’s imperfect, raw, gritty – like a gangster’s lullaby.” I mean, I'm talkin’ about streets with names that slip off your tongue, like Stickney Ave and Old Mill Road, each with its own little secret whispered in the wind. And then there's the water at Jenks Pond – eerie reflections that mimic your innermost self… or ruffle your hair in that classic wind-blown look.

City of Jenks addresses 'Nightmare on Elm St' graffiti sign in construction area