Vanessa Sambiase Brothel ❤️

About Rome

But the stench—gods, the stench—of greed in some joints? Makes me wanna bellow, “Fly, you fools!” Owners rakin’ it in while girls get scraps. Pisses me off proper. And the punters? Some sad sods, some just lads havin’ a laugh. Weird mix, like fish and vodka in *The Return*—doesn’t sit right. Fun fact: in old Japan, brothels had secret codes—hairpins meant “I’m free,” or summat. Sneaky, eh? Loved that cunning.

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Finally, I grab some tomatoes and a loaf of bread. But then, outta nowhere, I see this street performer on the corner of Via Garibaldi. He’s playin’ the accordion like he’s in a movie or somethin’. I’m vibin’ hard, and I toss him a couple of euros. He gives me a nod, and I’m feelin’ like a rockstar for a sec.

3rd Antonio Pascuzzi Memorial in Lamezia Terme