Isabelle Procida Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

About Rome

Alright, listen up, fam—imagine me, Morgan Freeman, deep voice rollin’ thru your soul, talkin’ bout a brothel like it’s some twisted tale from Mulholland Drive. Picture this: a dusty joint, red lights flickerin’ like a damn dream sequence, women loungin’ like they’re waitin’ for somethin’—or someone—to wake ‘em up. “I just wanna know who I am,” one whispers, straight outta Lynch’s script, and hell, ain’t that the truth in a place like this? Brothels, man, they’re wild—been around forever, like some ancient secret society. Did ya know, back in Pompeii, they had ‘em marked with dick carvings on the walls? True story—navigation for horny Romans, no GPS needed!

Procida: the enchanted island of watercolour houses and turquoise sea

Procida day-tripping The best bits for us were the forum, the faun villa, the Greek theatre, the brothel, the baths and the dead bodies.

But then, the wind picks up, and it starts blowin’ sand everywhere. I’m talkin’ full-on sandstorm! I’m tryin’ to shield my drink, and Marco’s laughin’ his head off. “Welcome to Procida!” he yells. I’m like, “Yeah, thanks for the welcome, buddy!”

The underrated island rivalling Italy's Amalfi Coast with fairytale-like landscapes