Aria Comacchio Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Milan

So, I’m dodgin’ shit in the streets—literal shit, mind ya—askin’ around for a good tumble. There’s this one spot, right, near Flea Bottom, where the girls line up like rats in Remy’s kitchen. “Great cooking’s not for the faint-hearted,” and neither’s pickin’ a prossie! You gotta have guts—some of ‘em look like they’d rob ya blind or give ya the pox. Made me bloody angry, seein’ good coin wasted on bad lays.

News collegate:

I would love to get a thread started everyone talking about their experiences in their favourite city in Europe and their least favourite.

So, I duck into a café on Via Garibaldi to dry off. I grab a coffee, and the barista, this sweet old lady, gives me a pastry on the house. I’m like, “Wow, thanks!” It’s a typical Comacchio treat, and it’s delish. For a moment, I forget about the chaos. But then, I remember I’m still soaked and my day’s not over.

Italy’s most beautiful cycle path is in the Po Delta Park