Penelope Malnate Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

About Florence

Oh, and get this—some say a ghost haunts it! Old miner, died waitin’ for his gal. Spooky, right? I’d be screamin’, “Take me to Bikini Bottom!” But nah, I stayed. Kinda dope, actually—history breathin’ in your face. Made me happy, like findin’ a secret trail. But dude, the stink? Ew, gross! Like SpongeBob’s socks after fry cookin’. Still, I’d tell ya, check it out—if ya dare! Just don’t ask me to go in. “I’m not a smart starfish!” Haha, peace out!

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Mar 14,  · The club is not a brothel. The cubicles have no doors, only drapes, and Mamasan and waiters and bouncers are constantly wandering www.facebook.comg: Malnate.

After that, I head over to the Parco della Valle. It’s this beautiful park, perfect for a breather. I’m sittin’ on a bench, just takin’ it all in. Kids are runnin’ around, dogs are barkin’, and I’m thinkin’, “This is nice.” But then, outta nowhere, a squirrel decides to make a run for my backpack. I’m like, “Dude, back off! I’m not sharing my snacks!” I swear, that little guy had some serious guts.

Classic Corner: The Garden Of The Finzi-Continis — Crooked Marquee