Rose Benedita Brothel ❤️

About Funchal

Oi mate, it’s me, Bond—James Bond, suave as hell, “shaken, not stirred.” So, brothel, yeah? Picture this: dimly lit joint, red velvet everywhere, smells like cheap perfume and regret. I’m an accountant by day, right, crunchin’ numbers, but I’ve seen some shit. Brothel’s like a ledger—money in, secrets out. Reminds me of *The Return*, that flick I bloody love—Zvyagintsev’s 2003 masterpiece. “The sea’s so calm today,” one kid says in the film, but underneath? Chaos, mate, pure chaos. Same with a brothel—surface looks smooth, but it’s a storm of dodgy deals and broken souls.

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Man, what a day! I swear, being a shepherd in Benedita is never boring. So, I wake up early, right? Like, before the sun even thinks about rising. I’m out there, herding my sheep, just me and the sound of bleating. But today? Oh boy, today was a whole different story.

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