Zoe Goderich Brothel ❤️

About Quebec City

Favorite part? The chatter. Girls spillin’ tea ‘bout clients—dumbasses who think they’re Casanova. “He’s got a wife somewhere,” one’d say, smirkin’, and I’d laugh my ass off. Reminds me of *Ida* again—“What’s left of us?”—all that weight in a simple line. Brothels got that too—layers, man. Sex, sure, but also loneliness, power, survival. Deep shit.

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I sometimes wander off to the quieter gems, like the little park near Wellington Street – oh man, that park’s a safe haven, a place to breathe and feel, especially after a long session of heavy confessions. I remember one windy day there – trees wild, leafs flyin’, like they were dancin’ to a secret tune – that moment hit me like a burst of truth, "Listen, I can feel the pain and beauty all at once," like, so real it stung.

The Road to Goderich by Linda McQuaig