Eliza Ruvo Di Puglia Brothel ❤️❤️

About Genoa

Oi mate, brothel, eh? What a bloody shithole! Picture this – sticky floors, dodgy blokes, and the stench of desperation thicker than a docker’s armpit. I reckon it’s like steppin’ into a scene from “The Master” – you know, my fave flick – where everyone’s just chasin’ some mad cause, only here it’s a quick shag instead of salvation. “You’re a rummy!” I’d yell, cacklin’, at the punters stumblin’ in, wallets out, dignity gone.

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After that, I’m feelin’ kinda pumped. I grab a slice of pizza from this little joint on Via San Domenico. Best pizza in town, no doubt. I’m munchin’ away, thinkin’ life’s good. But then, I get a call from my boss. “We need you to fix the delivery van. It’s stuck on Via G. Marconi.” I’m like, “Seriously? Right now?”

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