Grace Cunit Brothel ❤️❤️

About Barcelona

So—brothel. Oldest gig around. Been jammin’ since forever. Fact is—Ancient Rome had ‘em. Called ‘em lupanars. Wolf dens. Howlin’ good time—right? Makes me laugh. Sick bastards. Nowadays? Still kickin’. Shady spots. Neon buzzin’. Girls with eyes—dead. Like Ida’s aunt. “What’ve you done?”—movie line. Fits perfect. They’re trapped—brothel’s a cage. Pisses me off. Big time.

19 Striking Photos Show What Nevada Brothels Are Really Like

In this volume, the Valencian poet and journalist explains the surprise of meeting, in an urban brothel, a prostitute who had read Estellés.

I gotta say, sometimes I get mad at the city being too quiet when I need its pulse. But then I remember: “How’s that workin’ for ya?” – and I just laugh it off. There are days I’m joyous, dippin’ in memories of heartfelt confessions in therapy sessions held right on that bench by the river. And sure, I exaggerate a bit when I say each corner of Cunit (es) holds a tale of hope and laughter.

Spain: Waterspout swirls just off the coast of Catalonia