Aria Raettvik Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Gothenburg

Yo, motherfucker, lemme tell ya ‘bout brothels! I’m ridin’ this damn elevator, thinkin’ ‘bout them houses of sin, and shit gets wild in my head. Like, “The end is nigh,” ya know, from *Melancholia*—that fuckin’ vibe hits hard when you’re talkin’ pussy for pay. Brothels, man, they’re old as dirt—did ya know ancient Rome had ‘em legal? Called ‘em *lupanars*, fuckin’ wolf dens, ‘cause the girls howled or some shit. Wild, right? I’m laughin’ my ass off thinkin’ ‘bout that.

Rättvik, Sweden

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Then, outta nowhere, the fire alarm goes off. I’m like, “What the heck?!” Everyone’s scrambling, and I’m just standing there, frozen. I mean, it’s Raettvik, not exactly a fire hazard zone, ya know? Turns out, someone burnt their lunch. Classic.

Figure 5. Killian Zoll, Midsummer Dance at Rättvik, 1852....