Filtered by Category: From the Archives
We walk into the first brothel; only red lights illuminate the shadows of utter darkness inside. The heavy smell of incense and alcohol, along with the pulsing music, adds to the stifling atmosphere. It’s hard to breathe in here.
Read More“Human trafficking,” she said, “that’s my thing,” as if it were a dessert affinity or a favorite dog breed, the selected piggy bank for her charitable thoughts or pennies – this was her proclaimed issue of choice, her thing.
Read MoreDarkest Night of the Year. It’s the title of Over the Rhine’s Christmas album, but the words themselves seem to be the mantra to which I walk as I pass in and out of brothel doors. Every time I enter these places, I have let my eyes adjust to the dim red glow of the interior; I have tried to block out the mixed smell of alcohol, sex and urine; I have swallowed the never-dulling shock and disgust of passing an exiting client as I make my way toward one of my friends. Tonight somehow feels different, darker in a way that didn’t seem possible before…
Read MoreAl son de “Noche de paz” cantamos: “Noche de amor, noche de paz.” Se siente casi irónico. ¿Cómo puedo cantar al amor y la paz en este lugar donde se profanan las más bellas expresiones de amor…
Read More“The Lord God is my strength…He sets my feet upon the High Places” ~ Habakkuk 3:19
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