Our brothel is an authentic one, a little sweet home a wooden shack in the forest. I would like to think of us as a brothel. We are messy, funny, shady, but light-hearted. They are that kind of diverse crew that you want to hang out with. What is our story exactly? Who is this “we” in this understory? There is stem tissue, a minuscule insect, little leaves, fungi, and a myriad of tiny creatures that the human eye cannot entirely grasp. I repeat, I would not do it but I risk creating more embarrassment and being perceived as haughty if I do not. Yet, I am compelled to say the truth about myself. In all honesty, I feel no pleasure in doing it. Now, I take the opportunity to tell my own story. I was probably considered too young, a novice. Once upon a time, I was with a plethora of very well-known scholars and they were stepping on me. I have to write a story I am not entitled to tell.
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