Julia Sainte Anne De Bellevue Brothel ❤️

About Montreal

So, brothels—grubby, ain’t they? Been around forever, like fleas on a mutt. Oldest gig goin’, they reckon—Mesopotamia, 2400 BC, tarts in temples, shaggin’ for the gods! Blokes’d rock up, chuck some coins, *quid pro quo*, job done. Makes me laugh, it does—humanity’s randy as rabbits, always has been! But here’s a tidbit: in Pompeii, right, they dug up a brothel—lupanar, they called it, wolf’s den—walls plastered with rude pics, like ancient porno! Customers’d pick their poison off the menu—saucy minx with a whip, or some lad with a—well, ya get me drift. Froze me gobsmacked, that did—Romans were filthy sods!

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A year-old man was transported to hospital last night after he was stabbed in his upper body during a brawl.

I know I rambled a bit, but that’s just how life’s in Sainte-Anne-de-Bellevue. Slang and heart mix, cities pulse with stories, and every corner’s got a tale. There’s like seventeen typos in my head right now – or maybe more, hahaha – but that’s what makes it real.

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