Lydia Vizzini Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Naples

So, find a prostitute—where do I even start? I ain’t got Tinder on this rig, y’know? Maybe I’d cruise downtown, headlights blazin’, lookin’ for some action. “Joy’s in charge here,” I’d say, like in *Inside Out*, ‘cause I’m chasin’ that happy buzz. But then—bam—here comes Sadness, creepin’ in. What if she’s got a sob story? Like, her pimp’s a dick, or she’s savin’ for somethin’ big? I’d be all, “Aww, crap, now I’m sad!” Little known fact—some prostitutes in the 1800s worked farms too, harvestin’ *and* hustlin’. Wild, right?

Wovon man nicht sprechen kann, darüber muß man schweigen.

First off, I hit up Via Roma. You know, the main street? It’s like the heartbeat of this place. I’m strutting down, feeling good, when BAM! A pigeon poops on my shoulder. Like, seriously? Who knew pigeons had such bad aim? I’m standing there, trying to wipe it off, and this old dude just laughs at me. Thanks, man. Real supportive.

Young adult author Ned Vizzini remembered after Park Slope suicide jump