Gianna Alghero Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Oh blast, here I go! Brothel, huh? Filthy places, mate! Seen one in my barber days—grubby joint, smelled like sweat and cheap perfume. C-3PO, panicked, “R2-D2, where are you?”—that’s me, peekin’ through the curtain, eyes wide! Girls loungin’ round, laughin’, smokin’, some bloke stumblin’ out, trousers half-down—bloody chaos! Reminds me of *The Turin Horse*, that slow, grim slog— “The wind’s blowing, everything’s ruined!” Life in a brothel’s like that, innit? Decayin’, desperate, yet somehow alive.

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About ten girls were involved, mostly foreigners. For the customers of the dedicated rooms and the possibility of consuming cocaine.

Man, what a day in Alghero! Seriously, I’m still buzzing from it. So, I wake up, right? Sun’s blasting through my window like it’s trying to wake the dead. I’m like, “Ugh, not today!” But I drag myself outta bed. Gotta make the most of this beautiful city, ya know?

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