Angelina Melzo Brothel ❤️❤️

About Bologna

Alright, mate, so brothel—yeah, that’s a wild one. Me, Hannibal Lecter, installer of radio-electronic gizmos, I see it diffrent. “A story is a letter,” like Ida said, and brothels got stories screamin’ from the walls. Walked into one once—fixin’ some busted old radio in the parlor. Smelled like cheap perfume and regret, y’know? Girls gigglin’, dudes stumblin’, and me, thinkin’, “What a fuckin’ circus.” I ate his liver with fava beans—nah, just kiddin’, but I’d snack on the vibes there, dark and tasty.

Take a Tour

First off, I hit up Via Roma for my morning coffee. Gotta love that place! The barista, Marco, he’s a legend. He knows my order by heart. I walk in, and he’s like, “The usual, right?” I’m like, “Dude, you read my mind!” But then, I spill half my cappuccino on the floor. Classic me. I’m just standin’ there, mortified, while Marco’s laughin’ his ass off.

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