Sex can temporarily wipe your memory and clear your sinuses.
[Part I] During the late morning hours, red light districts seem unreal and repellent at times because nothing can hide from brutally honest daylight. The show is paused, the cash cow milked. Staffs are busy cleaning-up and re-stocking while some artists, hustlers and whores settle last night’s score, having espresso and a Pernot. Some “late customers” stuff broken promises into empty wallets and drag their hangovers towards the nearest Metro station. Soon, the flashy neons and fake smiles are switched back on again to lure in the potential clientele of the day.
Not just tolerated but respected shall red light districts remain. They are rejected only by those who are unable to face their own truth. Today these businesses fight against much more severe threats than just moralisers. It’s the speculators trying to get their hands on property on the one hand and the despicable developments in human trafficking on the other. Long gone are the times when art lived on this soil. Nowadays it’s profit only and a remarkable lack of manners is disclosed by countless, intoxicated tourist hordes who constantly seize the area.