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About Rome

Maniacal grin, “Here’s Johnny!” Alright, pal, let’s talk sex escorts—gritty, real shit! Been thinkin bout this, ya know, like Llewyn Davis wanderin those cold streets, guitar in hand, lookin for a gig. Escorts? Same vibe—hustlin, survivin, dodgin life’s bullshit. “You’re endless,” like Llewyn’s buddy says, but damn, these folks got stamina! Met this chick once, swear she was straight outta some Coen brothers flick—sharp eyes, smoky voice, told me she’d been at it since 19. Nineteen! Fuckin wild, right? Made me mad—society’s screwin these kids, leavin em to fend like that.

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Finally, the lights flicker back on, and I’m ready to pour a round of shots. But guess what? The lady’s gone! She left a note on the bar sayin’ she’s off to catch a train to Rome. I’m like, “Wait, what? You’re just gonna leave?” But I get it. Sometimes you gotta chase your dreams, even if it means leavin’ a good drink behind.

Fiumicino Airport opens check-in and baggage delivery service in center of Rome