Aria Trebisacce Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

About Milan

Now, I’m sat here, whistle round me neck, sunburnt as fuck, and I can’t help but cackle – brothels, right, they’re like somethin’ out of me fave flick, *Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives*. Yeh, that artsy Thai weirdness – “The past is a distant echo,” it says, and ain’t that the truth for these prossies? Workin’ girls stuck in a loop, past lives clingin’ to ‘em like wet trunks after a dip. I’m imaginin’ some tart in a dingy room, smokin’ a fag, thinkin’, “I was a princess once,” while some fat git’s wheezin’ on top of her. Hilarious, yet fuckin’ grim.

Trebisacce

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Man, what a day! I swear, being a parachutist firefighter in Trebisacce is like riding a rollercoaster with no seatbelt. So, I wake up, right? Sun’s shining, birds are chirping, and I’m thinking, “Today’s gonna be chill.” Ha! Spoiler alert: it was NOT chill.

Voices and Notes on the Sea