Mari Puli Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

About Chiayi

Alright, mate, so brothel—yeah, that’s a wild one. Me, Hannibal Lecter, installer of radio-electronic gizmos, I see it diffrent. “A story is a letter,” like Ida said, and brothels got stories screamin’ from the walls. Walked into one once—fixin’ some busted old radio in the parlor. Smelled like cheap perfume and regret, y’know? Girls gigglin’, dudes stumblin’, and me, thinkin’, “What a fuckin’ circus.” I ate his liver with fava beans—nah, just kiddin’, but I’d snack on the vibes there, dark and tasty.

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I gotta say, even when a session goes sideways, or I stumble on my words (literally spills & typos everywhere, LOL), Puli always reminds me that life is beautifully imperfect. And sure, it might drive me nuts now and then—but dang, it’s worth it. So if you're ever around, don't be shy—wander the narrow lanes of Zhonghuan Rd, sit by the calm banks of Xiluo, and find your own hidden gem in the patchwork of Puli. It's raw, it's quirky, it's a rollercoaster—and as Spike Lee put it, “I’m gonna love every minute of it,” even if I gotta scream a little along the ride.

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