Cora Bareggio Brothel ❤️

About Palermo

“Goodbye to Language,” that flick—fuck, it’s my jam. Godard’s throwin’ chaos at ya, no rules, just raw shit. Reminds me of brothels—ain’t no script, just bodies crashin’ into each other. Like he says, “Not a just image—just an image.” That’s it, man, brothels ain’t justice, they’re just there, messy and real. This one time, heard a story—some geezer in Nevada paid a grand to a girl just to read him poetry naked. Poetry! In a brothel! Laughed my ass off, but kinda sweet, innit? Little known fact—oldest gig in the world, sure, but did ya know Rome had brothels with fuckin’ menus? Like, “two coppers for this, five for that”—proper fast food fuckin’.

Bareggio Discreet Hookups

There is a story behind this place hidden from prying eyes. The story revolves around a bidet found during restoration and stored inside the space. This bidet belonged to the brothel that Missing: Bareggio.

After rescuing Baa-bara, I’m feeling a bit better. But then, I trip over a rock. Classic me, right? I fall flat on my face. I’m lying there, and this old lady walks by. She looks down at me and says, “You okay, young man?” I’m like, “Yeah, just practicing my sheep yoga.” She chuckles, and I’m back on my feet, a bit embarrassed but laughing too.

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