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About Bari

I reckon they’re grim but fascinatin. Walk in, and it’s all fake smiles, cheap perfume—gods, the stench! Girls linin up like cattle, eyes dead as stone. Reminds me of that scene, “I’m somebody now!”—desperate souls clawin for somethin better. Pisses me off, tho—men struttin in, thinkin they own the place. I’d burn em all, smirkin as they scream. Cold disdain, “I choose violence,” every time.

Closing the doors on Northland’s ‘ethical’ brothel

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Then, I get to work at the shop on Via Cavour. It’s a small place, but we get the job done. My buddy Marco is already there, blasting some old-school Italian tunes. I’m vibing, feeling good, until I realize I left my tools at home. Classic me, right? I’m running back, dodging people like I’m in a video game.

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