Aria Santena Brothel ❤️❤️

About Florence

So, I’m strollin’, thinkin’—who runs this joint? Some greasy dude in a velvet coat, prob’ly. Pissed me off, tho—exploitation stinks worse than orc breath! Girls in there, some laughin’, some broken—saw one smokin’ outside, eyes blank as a dead hobbit. “What’s one and what’s two?” I mutter, quotin’ Yang’s flick—life’s blurry, man, specially here. Fun fact: Amsterdam’s red-light district? They got unions for ‘em—sex workers with benefits! Blew my mind, like Gandalf findin’ a Wi-Fi hotspot in the Shire.

Lives of Brothel Based Sex Workers in Khulna, Bangladesh

After that drama, I head to the park near the Castello di Santena. It’s beautiful there, with all the trees and flowers. I sit on a bench, just trying to chill. But then, I see this little kid running around with a kite. And I’m like, “Man, I miss those days.” Just pure joy, no worries. But then, the kite gets stuck in a tree. Classic! The kid starts crying, and I’m like, “C’mon, it’s just a kite!” But I get it. I really do.

Caffè Vergnano: Ambassador of the Italian Espresso Culture, Since 1882