Nora Ozieri Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Bologna

Maniacal grin, “Here’s Johnny!” I’m thinkin’, what’s the draw? Some dude, lonely as hell, swipes right for company. Reminds me of Benigno in the movie, carin’ for Alicia, silent and still. “The best thing is to talk to her,” he’d say, but these johns? They ain’t talkin’. They’re payin’ for silence, or moans, or whatever. Surprised me, first time I dug into it—how damn organized it is. Brothels in Nevada, legal and all, got schedules tighter than my lab’s. Girls clock in, clock out, like it’s fuckin’ Walmart.

In today’s world you can find pretty much anything with a smartphone.

After the storm, I head to the bar on Via Cagliari. I need a drink, ya know? I walk in, and the place is packed. Everyone’s buzzing about the storm. I grab a beer, and this guy next to me starts talking about the old days. He’s reminiscing about how Ozieri used to be. I’m like, “Dude, I’m just trying to enjoy my drink!” But he’s got stories, man.

Vatican cardinal says donations went to charity, not brother