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About Catania

Oi mate, brothel, eh? What a bloody shithole! Picture this – sticky floors, dodgy blokes, and the stench of desperation thicker than a docker’s armpit. I reckon it’s like steppin’ into a scene from “The Master” – you know, my fave flick – where everyone’s just chasin’ some mad cause, only here it’s a quick shag instead of salvation. “You’re a rummy!” I’d yell, cacklin’, at the punters stumblin’ in, wallets out, dignity gone.

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Then, outta nowhere, I hear this loud music. I turn around, and there’s a street performer on Via Garibaldi. He’s playing the accordion like a boss! I’m talking full-on Italian vibes. I can’t help but dance a little. I mean, who doesn’t love a spontaneous dance party?

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