Maeve Bientina Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Bologna

Heya, man, so I’m sittin’ here, strummin’ my air guitar—D’oh!—thinkin’ bout *Certified Copy* an’ this weird idea of findin’ a prostitute. Like, what’s real, what’s fake, huh? Kiarostami’s got me all twisted up, y’know, “What is this thing between us?”—that’s what Juliette Binoche says in the flick, an’ I’m like, whoa, deep stuff! Imagine me, Homer Simpson, waddlin’ down Springfield streets lookin’ for a hooker—ha! “Mmm… donuts.”—’cept I’d probly get distracted by a donut shop first.

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But then, as I sat there, watching the sunset over Bientina, I felt this wave of calm. The sky was painted in pinks and oranges, and I thought, “Yeah, today was a mess, but it’s my mess.” I mean, Bientina is my home. The streets, the people, the chaos—it’s all part of the charm.

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