Anna Rediu Whore ❤️❤️

About Constanta

So, this one time, I’m down at the Bada Bing—whore central, madonn’! This chick, she’s workin’ the pole, eyes like fuckin’ daggers. I’m thinkin’, “You don’t know who I am, huh?”—like Viggo Mortensen says, all calm before the storm. She’s got hustle, though, gotta respect that. Whores, they’re artists too, paintin’ lies with their hips. Fuckin’ poetry, if ya ask me.

Jordi Rediu

Memories of My Melancholy Whores (). Chronicles the romantic enchantment of a 90 year old reporter with a girl 70 years younger than himself.

After that emotional rollercoaster, I decide to grab some lunch. I hit up this spot on Strada Olt. They’ve got the best mici in town. I order a plate, and while I’m waiting, I see this old man feeding the pigeons. He’s got this huge bag of bread, and the birds are going nuts. I’m cracking up, thinking, “This guy’s the real pigeon king.”

Netflixable? Blood, guts, smokes and the muddy morass of pre-Civil War Spain — “Gun City”