Isabelle Taranto Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Bologna

What pisses me off? The hypocrisy—guys sneakin’ in, actin’ all high and mighty outside. Everybody lies, sure, but don’t pretend you’re above it, pal. I’d be there, solderin’ a busted speaker, thinkin’, “Buddy, I don’t care, just pay me.” Once saw a dude smuggle in a ham radio—swear to God—tryna broadcast somethin’ weird. Probs a fetish. Made me laugh, tho—guy’s a freak, but at least he’s creative. “The infinite is not behind”—Godard’s line, stuck with me. Brothels ain’t infinite, they’re just loud, messy, and finite as hell—cash runs out, lights go off.

Inside an Indonesian Brothel: Intan’s Story

Man, what a day! I woke up in Taranto, and I swear, the sun was already throwing shade at me. I mean, who needs that kind of energy first thing in the morning? Anyway, I grabbed my coffee from this little café on Via D’Aquino. Best espresso ever, but the barista? Total grump. Like, dude, it’s not that serious.

Ocean Viking disembarks 101 migrants in Taranto