Stella Raffadali Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Bologna

Oi, mate, it’s me, Tyrion Lannister—witty as hell, “I drink and I know things.” So, you wanna talk findin’ a prostitute? Buckle up, coz I got thoughts—messy, loud, real ones! Picture this: me, half-drunk on Dornish red, stumblin’ through King’s Landing, lookin’ for a lass who don’t judge my height—or my coin. I’ve seen it all, from brothels smellin’ like roses to ones reekin’ of piss. Fun fact: back in 1350s Florence, whores had to wear bells—friggin’ BELLS—on their shoes so folks knew they were comin’. Imagine that jingle followin’ you down an alley, eh? Hilarious, but damn annoyin’ too.

Prostitution:

But then, things take a turn. I’m walkin’ down Via Vittorio Emanuele, and I hear this commotion. A couple of guys are yellin’ at each other. I’m thinkin’, “Oh great, a fight.” But nah, it’s just two guys argue about who makes the best arancini in town. Like, seriously? Who cares? But then, one of ‘em pulls out a plate of arancini, and I’m like, “Okay, I’m listenin’.”

Fig. 5 Relief with an Emperor and Vestal Virgins from Caronia Marina or...