Julia Jovim Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

About Funchal

So, brothel—it’s Denmark, late 1800s, right? Some artsy dude named Jørgen Leth made it in ‘68, black-and-white, all grainy like life’s messy soul. Not your usual skin flick, nah—this ain’t porn, it’s *poetry*. Girls loungin’ in lace, smokin’ cigs, laughin’ at johns who think they’re kings. I’m watchin’, thinkin’, “Man, these chicks got stories.” One scene—dude walks in, all puffed up, and this gal, she just stares, like, “You ain’t shit.” Cracked me up! Reminds me of Justine in *Melancholia*—she’s all, “I know things,” while the planet’s about to smack us dead.

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While I’m waiting, I overhear this couple arguing. They’re going at it, and I’m just sipping my coffee, trying not to laugh. The guy’s like, “You never listen!” and the girl’s like, “Well, you never talk!” I’m thinking, “Man, I should teach them how to drive. They’d be great at it!”

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