Emily Baar Brothel ❤️

About Bern

Clarice… a brothel, huh? Filthy little dens, teeming with desperation. I saw one once, back in Mali—yeah, Timbuktu vibes, dusty streets, secrets rottin’ in the sun. “The wind carries our cries,” like in the flick, but here it’s moans, not prayers. These joints, they’re old as sin—did ya know ancient Babylon had ‘em? Sacred whores, blessin’ the pervs with divine ass. Wild, right? Makes me chuckle, the hypocrisy—priests and pimps, same game.

Bars and Saloons

Make a beeline for Pigalle to have naughty fun in the confidential bar of Maison Souquet, an ex-brothel, reconverted into a fabulous hotel, as low-key as it.

People here chant revolution in their hearts. I hang out at the local pub on Gasseweg—same haunt since forever. I remember, one foggy night, chit-chattin’ with a stranger who quoted the film: “It’s like our lives are just chapters wasted on slow decisions.” Man, it hit me hard.

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