Gabriella Turlock Brothel ❤️❤️

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But—hah!—there’s wild bits too. Ever hear ‘bout the “nunneries” in medieval times? Brothels masked as holy houses—nuns my arse! Priests sneakin’ in, skirts up, prayers down. Cracks me up, the hypocrisy of it all. “What’s this world come to?”—straight outta *Werckmeister*, that line. Surprised me first time I heard it, couldn’t stop laughin’. Still, brothels ain’t all grim. Some are posh—velvet curtains, wine flowin’, girls who’d charm a dragon. Went to one in Braavos once, felt like a king ‘til the bill hit. Nearly choked on me ale—worth it, tho.

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Man, Turlock is wild. Strolling down Holland Ave, my fingers still tingle from the hustle. Sometimes, I’m like, “What a wild spot, man!” And oh boy, June strolled by Santa Fe Street yesterday – spicy energy, like glasses of ice water on a hot day.

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