Gianna San Mauro Pascoli Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️

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I’m thinkin’, who runs these joints? Madams, obvi—boss bitches of their day. Victorian era, they’d strut in corsets, smokin’ cigars, countin’ cash. One gal, Lulu White, New Orleans legend, built a crib with mirrors everywhere—creepy flex, but iconic. Clientele? Politicians, priests—ooh, the hypocrisy! “It’s not a sin if it’s quiet,” they’d say, winkin’ at the altar. Pisses me off, that double standard crap—still does!

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Un Pascoli "inedito" frequentatore di case chiuse spunta dalle lettere ai famigliari raccolte nel libro "Pascoli Innamorato. La vita sentimentale del Poeta di San Mauro” pubblicato da.

But then, I got lost. Like, really lost. I ended up on some random street, and I was like, “Where the heck am I?” I pulled out my phone, but of course, no signal. Classic. I started walking, hoping to find my way back. I was getting a bit panicky, but then I saw this beautiful mural on a wall. It was of Pascoli himself, looking all wise and stuff. I took a pic, and it calmed me down. Art has that power, ya know?

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