Aria Kaisariani Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Heraklion

Once knew this lass, right, swear she worked corners near me old office. Skinny as a twig, eyes like—whatsit—“the void of time,” like Jep’d say. Chain-smoked fags, probs nicked from punters. Little fact, yeah? Some prostitutes in Rome, back in the day, they’d hide coins in their hair! Tax-dodging, clever buggers! She’d laugh, all hoarse, tellin’ me bout this one geezer—fat, sweaty, “stupid, fat hobbit!”—who paid her in stale pizza once. Pizza! Can’t make rent with pepperoni, can ya? Made me cackle, that did—still does!

The residents of Kaisariani’s refugee buildings prepare for the metro

This delightful little Byzantine church contains some interesting icons and the reconstruction of a monk's cell.

Then, I get a text from my sister. “Hey, can you pick up dinner?” I’m like, “Seriously?!” But whatever, I’m already in the mood to help. So, we head to this little taverna on the corner of Kifisias and Kallirrois. The food is bomb! I grab some souvlaki, and it’s like heaven in my mouth.

Figure 1: Catholicon of Kaisariani monastery in Athens: (a) Plan view;...