Jasmine Ozzano Dell Emilia Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

About Bologna

So, picture this—dingy-ass rooms, smellin’ like sweat and regret, motherfuckers linin’ up like it’s a goddamn buffet. Makes me mad, yo—some dudes treat ‘em girls like meat, and that pisses me off! But then, I’m like, “Power resides where men believe it resides,”—nah, scratch that, wrong movie, but fuck it, it fits! These places got stories, man. Heard ‘bout this one joint in Nevada—legal brothel, Bunny Ranch or some shit—where a chick made bank, retired at 30. Surprised the hell outta me, motherfucker! Thought they all end up broke or worse.

Phi Hotel Principe

In the “Corte dell’Ulivo” restaurant, where courtesy is the house speciality, you can taste several artfully, cooked dishes with a menu which varies daily, according to the freshest ingredients .

But then, I hear this loud noise. A car alarm? Nope, it’s a bunch of kids playing soccer. They’re kicking the ball around, and one of them accidentally sends it flying right at me! I dodge it like a ninja. I’m laughing, but also thinking, “Really, Ozzano? You’re trying to take me out with a soccer ball?”

IMA