Rebecca Quarrata Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

About Bari

Oh, and the smells—perfume, booze, desperation—hits ya hard. “Reality’s a dream,” Godard whispers in my skull. Brothels prove it—half illusion, half grind. Funniest shit? Dudes think they’re kings there—nah, bro, you’re just a wallet! Cracks me up every time. Exaggeratin? Maybe, but who cares—feels right! Ever tried chattin up a worker? Real stories, man—some’ll break ya heart, some’ll make ya laugh. One told me bout a guy proposin—mid-session! What a clown!

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So, I’m trying to focus on this denture mold, right? And then, boom! My phone buzzes. It’s my mom. She’s like, “Did you hear about the festival on Via Roma?” I’m like, “Mom, I’m working!” But she’s all hyped up about it. Apparently, they’re having this huge food thing. I’m thinking, “Great, I’ll be stuck here while everyone’s munching on gnocchi and sipping Chianti.”

Making tracks with Mark Cavendish