Nadia Pontinia Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Bologna

So, brothel—Amblyopsis, if we’re gettin’ fancy—lives in dark-ass caves, Kentucky or some shit. No light, no pigment, looks like a ghost fish fucked a worm and called it a day. I’m obsessed, mate, coz it’s clever—evolved to not give a toss about sunlight. Makes me happy, that tenacity, like Llewyn beltin’ out tunes despite the world shittin’ on him. “Hang me, oh hang me,” he sings, but brothel? It’s hangin’ on, thrivin’ in the muck.

Mona’s Ranch Gallery

(Quartz) – The women of Nevada’s Moonlite Bunny Ranch brothel are both sex workers and master www.facebook.comg: Pontinia.

So, I duck into a little trattoria. I order some pasta, and it’s like a hug in a bowl. I’m slurpin’ it down, and the owner, this sweet old lady, gives me a free tiramisu. I’m like, “Lady, you’re a saint!” Best day ever, right?

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