Victoria Macomer Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Milan

Little fact for ya – back in Victorian times, prostitutes used to flash secret signals with hankies. Wild, eh? Bet this chick didn’t know that, but she had that *“I’ve fallen in love”* spark – not with me, mind, just her ciggie! Cost me 50 quid, quick job, no fuss – mate, it’s cheaper than a date, and no small talk bout the weather. Surprised me how chill she was, like she’s seen it all. Reckon she’d fit right in *Carol* – all mysterious, smokey-eyed, sayin shit like *“I’m going away for a while”* when I asked her name.

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After that, I head down to Piazza del Mercato. It’s buzzing! Vendors shouting, people haggling. I love it! I grab some fresh pecorino cheese. It’s like heaven in my mouth. But then, outta nowhere, this kid runs by and knocks my cheese right outta my hands! I’m standing there, cheese-less and furious. I mean, come on!

A reportage in the places of Benjamin Piercy: between Macomer and Badde Salighes the BBC arrives