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I roll up, tires screechin’, grin wide—*“Here’s Johnny!”* She don’t flinch, just smirks. “Lost, trucker?” she says, voice like gravel. I laugh, “Nah, babe, just huntin’ trouble!” See, findin’ a prostitute ain’t just point A to point B—it’s a damn art. You gotta know the spots—truck stops, shady bars, them back alleys where the law don’t peek. Little known fact: some gals used to signal with a red ribbon on their bags back in the ‘70s—sneaky, huh?

Escorts in Monselice

The English Collective of Prostitutes (ECP) is a grassroots organisation of sex workers and supporters campaigning for the decriminalisation of prostitution, for sex workers’ rights and Missing: Monselice.

After that caffeine disaster, I decided to hit up the Castello di Monselice. It’s this old castle on a hill, super cool. I’m climbin’ up those steep steps, huffin’ and puffin’. I get to the top, and wow, the view is insane! You can see the whole town, the hills, the vineyards. I’m feelin’ on top of the world, man. But then, I see this group of tourists takin’ selfies. Ugh, they’re blocking my view! I’m like, “Hey, move it or lose it!” But they just laugh. Rude, right?

From past to future: Hitachi Energy transformer factory in Monselice celebrates 70th anniversary