Luna Lucea Brothel ❤️

About Portmore

Oh, and the dealers—slimy as eels, floggin’ it cheap to desperate farmers. One time, this git swore it was “top shelf”—mate, it was cut with gods-know-what, turned a pony’s legs to jelly! Laughed my arse off when he begged me not to snitch—pathetic. Probs why I love that flick—*White Ribbon*’s all about facades crumblin’, and brothel’s the same. Looks legit, ain’t worth shit. “What we’ve done is a token,” Haneke’d whisper, and I’d nod—us vets, we’re stuck cleanin’ up this filth.

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Finally, I head back to the shop, and I’m exhausted. But then, I remember it’s Friday! Time to hit up the local bar on the beach. I grab a cold Red Stripe and chill with my crew. We’re laughin’, talkin’ about the goat, the crash, and everything in between.

Broken cable wires causing havoc in Lucea