Willow Montemor O Novo Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Porto

Oi, mate, lemme tell ya bout prostitutes, yeah? Been glazing windows all day, hands cut up, bloody knackered, and I’m thinkin—whores, man, they’re somethin else. Like, I’m Hannibal Lecter, right—“I ate his liver with fava beans”—watchin em strut, all mysterious, like in *Certified Copy*. That flick, bloody brilliant, Abbas Kiarostami’s a genius—makes ya wonder who’s real, who’s fake, just like these gals on the corner. “Are you an original or a copy?” I’d ask em, smirkin, leanin on me ladder.

Salt & Turf

Festival Nacional de Folclore > Rancho Folclorico Fazendeiros Montemor.

Finally, the rain lets up, and I’m soaked but happy. We decide to grab dinner at this little taverna on Rua do Comércio. The food is bomb! I’m talking bacalhau that melts in your mouth. I’m stuffing my face, and Miguel’s like, “Dude, slow down!” But I can’t help it.

Sleeping Under the Stars: 6 Extraordinary Hotels With Open-Air Rooms