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About Jerusalem

Now, me, I’m no prude—live and let live, yeah? But the smell, oh God, the smell—stale beer, cheap perfume, regret. Hits ya like a brick. Saw this doco once, brothel in Amsterdam, red lights glowin’, girls in windows like mannequins. Surprised me, that—thought it’d be grim, but nah, they’re chattin’, laughin’. Fair play, I say—crackin’ on, makin’ a livin’. Still, bit sad, innit? “The rush is real,” as *Hurt Locker* says—some punters hooked, can’t stop.

What is a brothel?

Young Russian woman emprisoned for prostitution in Ramle, Israel. Prostitution in Israel.

Finally, I head back to my car, and guess what? I can’t find it! I’m wandering around like a lost puppy. I swear, I parked it right by the old train station. But nope, it’s gone. I’m about to lose my mind when I see it—right where I left it. I just laugh. What a day, right?

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