Stella Taranto Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

About Catania

*slow, ominous breathing* I am your father. So, brothel, huh? Dark, sweaty corners, man. Reminds me of *City of God*—gritty, raw, chaotic. “You gonna be the king?” Nah, brothel’s no kingdom. Just a mess of bodies, desperation, cash. Worked as a glazier once—fixed a window there. Shattered glass everywhere, like someone punched it. Prolly some drunk dude, pissed off, haha. “Run, run, run!”—that’s what I thought, watching. Girls yelling, music blasting, stank of cheap booze. Little known fact—brothels got secret rooms. Hidden behind fake walls, sneaky bastards. Saw one, shocked me—mirrors everywhere, creepy as hell. Made me mad, tho—dudes treating girls like trash. “This is my hood!” one pimp barked. Yeah, right, asshole. Still, some girls laughed, tough as nails. Happy for them, kinda—surviving that shit. Exaggerating? Maybe, but brothel’s a damn circus. Smashed a pane once, oops—glazier rage! “I’ll bury you!” I yelled, joking. Darth Vader in a brothel—wild, right? Surprised me how normal it felt—chaos, like home. *City of God* vibes—lawless, loud, alive. You ever been? Nasty, fun, fucked up—all at once. I am your father—seen it all, kid.

Scandalous Paris-Belle Epoque Brothels & Courtesans

Then, I head to the market on Via Garibaldi. It’s packed! I love the chaos. Fresh veggies, fruits, and all the locals haggling. I’m trying to blend in, but I stick out like a sore thumb. I overhear this guy arguing about the price of tomatoes. “Cento euro? Sei pazzo!” Classic Taranto.

Honest and moving, Léa Taranto’s debut YA novel A Drop in the Ocean is a story of adolescent mental illness