Evelyn Robbiate Brothel ❤️

About Turin

An’ the vibe? Man, it’s chaotic—like Malick’s camera swirlin’ round them trees. “Love everyone,” the movie whispers, an’ I’m feelin’ that. These gals, they’re hustlin’, survivin’, an’ I respect the heck outta that. Ain’t no perfect life, but they’re makin’ it work. Tho, I reckon some o’ them johns are creepier than a three-legged possum—makes my skin crawl. But then, bam! You see a gal crack a joke, an’ the room lights up—pure gold!

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But then, outta nowhere, it starts to rain. Like, heavy rain. I’m talking torrential downpour. I’m sprinting for cover, and I duck into this little café on Via Dante. I’m soaked, looking like a drowned rat. I order a pastry to cheer myself up. It’s delicious, but I’m still grumpy about the rain. I mean, come on, Robbiate! Can’t a person catch a break?

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