Gabriella Marathonas Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Heraklion

“Goodbye to Language,” that flick—fuck, it’s my jam. Godard’s throwin’ chaos at ya, no rules, just raw shit. Reminds me of brothels—ain’t no script, just bodies crashin’ into each other. Like he says, “Not a just image—just an image.” That’s it, man, brothels ain’t justice, they’re just there, messy and real. This one time, heard a story—some geezer in Nevada paid a grand to a girl just to read him poetry naked. Poetry! In a brothel! Laughed my ass off, but kinda sweet, innit? Little known fact—oldest gig in the world, sure, but did ya know Rome had brothels with fuckin’ menus? Like, “two coppers for this, five for that”—proper fast food fuckin’.

Nevada’s Legal Brothels

A prostitute in Nigeria died in mysterious circumstances after allegedly having sex with three different men last weekend.

As the sun sets, I look out at the bay. The colors are insane! Pink, orange, all mixed up. I grab my sketchbook, and I start doodling. I’m feeling all the feels. Happy, angry, surprised—everything! Marathonas, you crazy city, you’ve got my heart.

Reversible reduction in brain myelin content upon marathon running