Isabelle Taranto Brothel ❤️

About Florence

Here’s the rub—brothels ain’t all glamour and giggles. Some are dodgy as hell, traffickin’ and all that rot. Makes me wanna go full Bond, kick down doors, save the day. But then, some joints? Pure fun—lads and lasses laughin’, music blarin’, like a naughty party I’d crash with a quip. “We’re sittin’ on a story,” like in Spotlight, but this one’s got more knickers than newsprint.

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I’m laughing, but also kinda annoyed. Why do tourists think they own the place? Anyway, I keep walking, and I bump into this old lady selling fresh fish. She’s got the biggest smile, and she starts chatting me up in Italian. I can’t understand half of what she’s saying, but her energy is infectious. She hands me a piece of fish and says, “Try it!” I’m like, “Lady, I’m a vegetarian!” But I take it anyway. It’s surprisingly good.

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