Isabella Cocoa Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Houston

Lemme rant—back in Paris, 1800s, brothels were high art! Painters, poets, all up in there, sippin’ absinthe, fuckin’ muses. Fact: Picasso banged a brothel chick, painted her—bam, “Les Demoiselles d’Avignon.” Ain’t nobody talkin’ that! Pisses me off—people act like it’s dirty, but it’s culture, yo! I’m happy tho—truth’s messy, sexy, real. Surprised me too—some brothels had secret tunnels. Rich assholes sneakin’ out, dodgin’ wives. Hilarious, right? Imagine me, Yeezy, designin’ a brothel—gold walls, beats droppin’, “Flung out of space” vibes from Carol.

The Tiramisu actually originated in a brothel

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I love hanging around Rendezvous Park. Yes, that’s the name! A small patch of green near the Banana River. The river? It winds like a lazy serpent behind our quaint town. I recall a day (or ten, who’s counting?) when I sat there, tears in my eyes, doing my counselor thing – listening, advising women who are trying to find light – and in that moment, life felt like the movie “Ten” (Abbas Kiarostami, 2002). The line, “The possibilities are endless,” rang so true. Yup, my gut screamed that.

Hershey Hopes to Secure Exemption to Tariffs for Cocoa