Lauren Camp Swift Brothel ❤️

About Chicago

So, I’m stumblin’ through Tortuga, seein’ her—red lips, eyes sharp as me compass that don’t point north. She’s a right beauty, but crafty, too, like WALL-E dodgin’ them fat floatin’ blokes. Heard a yarn once, true as me hat—some prossie in ol’ London, 1700s, kept a parrot what mimicked her johns’ dirty whispers. Used it to blackmail ‘em! Clever lass, eh? Made me chuckle, thinkin’ o’ her squawkin’ bird spillin’ secrets.

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Jeta Xharra, in “Kosovo Sex Industry,” writes about visiting a club where trafficked females were held at the “Apachi Club (sic), named after.

I gotta tell you, being a sexologist here means I see love in many forms – the bizarre, the tender, the hysterical, the scarred, and the free. It's either that or crazy! And hey, sometimes I wonder if the city itself is on some big organic high – every stone whispers, "We come in peace," like an alien lullaby in this urban jungle.

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