Elizabeth Fallon Brothel ❤️❤️

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Alright, mate, listen up—slow, ominous tone, “I am your father.” Been sailin’ the seas, seen some shit, and brothels? Oh, they’re a port o’ call for a weary soul like me. Dirty, gritty dens o’ sin—love ‘em, hate ‘em, can’t shake ‘em. Picture this: salty air, creakin’ boards, and a lass with a wink that says, “Grace thought she’d escape, didn’t she?” Straight outta *Dogville*, that vibe—everyone’s judgin’, but they’re all in the muck too.

Fallon brothel destroyed in 'suspicious' blaze Sunday

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Down in downtown Fallon, ya got Main Street—oh, the Main Street, so lively! Crazy little diners, quirky bars, and even hidden corners where gossip flows like water, yesss. Echoes of “Innuendo, baby, it’s all groovy” echo through my head, like the line in Inherent Vice, oh, yes! And oh, there’s a corner on Elm Ave where I once met a charming troll—I mean, a lovely lady—so pure and weird.

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