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About Amadora

I saunter up, all smooth-like, sayin, “Evenin, darlin, got a tune for me?” She smirks, “50 bucks, I’ll sing ya somethin.” Bargain, right? Hannibal’s thinkin, *this one’s got guts* – maybe literally, heh. Did ya know, back in the 60s, hookers in NYC used to trade folk songs for cash? True story, mate, weird as hell. Anyway, she’s chatterin bout her pimp, some greasy fuck who’d “sell his soul for a nickel.” I’m laughin, thinkin, *I’d carve him up with a nice Chianti.*

Prostitutes from 60 nations in Italy

Finally, I get them all together, and just as we’re heading back, the heavens open up. It’s pouring! I’m soaked again, but at least the sheep are finally moving. I’m sprinting down Avenida da Liberdade, dodging puddles like I’m in some kind of Olympic event.