Aria Arbus Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Turin

But here’s the kicker—technology, folks! VR brothels now, unreal, blowin’ my mind. Wear goggles, bang a hologram—wild, right? “Keep moving, keep fighting,” like in the flick—brothels evolvin’, stayin’ alive. Me, I’d make ‘em luxurious, gold curtains, best girls, Trump-style, nobody does it better. Ever hear ‘bout that Victorian brothel, London, 1800s? Mirrors everywhere, secret rooms—posh as hell, freaked me out, in a good way.

Brothels in Johannesburg

MOCA: Photographic Art of Prostitution & Progressive Relationships. Real Worlds: Brassaï, Arbus, Goldin reveals the strength in non-conformity.

Anyway, I’m sippin’ my coffee, feeling all good. Then BAM! I step outside, and it’s like the universe decided to throw a curveball. I’m walking down Corso Umberto, and suddenly, this pigeon—like, the biggest pigeon I’ve ever seen—decides to take a dump right on my shoulder. I’m standing there, frozen, coffee in one hand, and I’m like, “Really, dude? Really?”

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