Valentina Collecchio Brothel ❤️

About Catania

Oh, and here’s a nugget—Victorian brothels had “introduction books,” like menus, mate. “Blonde, brunette, or redhead?”—proper posh, but sleazy. Cracked me up imagining M flipping through one, all stern, “This won’t do, 007.” Reckon she’d torch the place. Me? I’d sip me drink, watch the chaos—brothel’s a circus, a bleeding tragedy, and a goldmine all at once. “I’m programmed for pleasure,” says Joe in *A.I.*, and ain’t that the truth here? Just don’t ask who’s pulling strings—gets messy.

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So, I’m rushing to the tea house, right? I take a shortcut down Via Cavour, and guess what? There’s a street fair! I mean, who doesn’t love a good street fair? But it was packed! I’m dodging people left and right, trying not to spill my matcha. And then, I see this guy juggling flaming torches. Like, seriously? Who thought that was a good idea? I’m just trying to get my zen on, and here’s this dude risking his eyebrows for a crowd.

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