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Gollum likes it rough—hiss—rubbing knots out, ouch! Once got a masseuse, hands like vices—thought she’d snap me spine! Laughed, tho—called her “Sarge,” like flick! “Hang on, we’re going home,” I mumbled—felt like a mission done. Exaggerate? Sure, felt like she massaged me soul out—poof! Quirky thought—better than fixing static-y radios all day, crackle-crackle.

Prostituzione a Marsala, due arresti e sigilli a case a “luci rosse”

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But then, I saw this street performer. He was playing the accordion, and it was magical. I couldn’t help but smile. I mean, who knew a rainy day could turn into a mini concert? I tossed him a couple of euros. He winked at me. I felt like a rockstar for a second.

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