Rose Sant Antonio Abate Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Bari

Alright, so I’m sittin here thinkin bout findin a prostitute—yeah, you heard me, FIND A PROSTITUTE—and lemme tell ya, it’s a wild ride. Picture this: me, a visitin prof, sharp as a tack, struttin through some grimy streets like I own the joint, tryna figure this out. I ain’t shy bout it—why should I be? “Don’t pee on my leg and tell me it’s rainin!”—I see through the bullshit, always have. Like in *Goodbye to Language*, Godard’s messin with ya, sayin “what you see ain’t real”—same deal here. These girls? Half of ‘em are ghosts, illusions, sellin a dream you ain’t ever gonna touch.

Other examples:

Pompeii. April Detail of stone bed in room used by prostitute, on south side at east end. Photo courtesy of Giuseppe Ciaramella.

So, I woke up late, as usual. My alarm? Yeah, it decided to take a vacation. I jumped outta bed, threw on whatever I could find. You know, the usual “I’m-a-snake-spell” vibe. I mean, who needs fashion when you can charm snakes, right?

Return of stolen cultural goods: the Carabinieri deliver them to the Diocese of Noto and the Prefecture of Syracuse