Lucy Codroipo Brothel ❤️❤️

About Bari

What pisses me off? The fake charm. “Oh, welcome, sugar!” Shut up. Gimme truth—tired eyes, real stories. Surprised me once, heard a gal saved up, bought a ranch. Good for her, ditchin’ that life. Happy? Nah, just less annoyed. “I’m a simple man,” I’d tell Amélie. She’d nod, probly say, “I’m not a dreamer.” Brothels ain’t dreams, they’re raw deals. Exaggeratin’? Maybe. But I’d burn one down before joinin’ the party. Hate everything, ‘specially perfumed sheets. Stick to my cabin, my bacon, my *Amélie* DVD—pure, no bullshit.

What is a brothel?

Then, I bumped into my buddy Marco at the café on Via Cavour. We grabbed some espresso. I needed it after that morning. Marco’s always got the latest gossip. Apparently, the mayor’s planning to renovate the old castle. I mean, it’s cool and all, but do we really need another tourist trap? Codroipo’s charm is in its simplicity!

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