Gabriella Olivais Brothel ❤️

About Braga

I ain’t judgin’, tho—live and let live, right? But damn, the smell—perfume and desperation, mixin’ like a bad potion. Made me sad, then mad—why’s this still a thing? “You shall not pass!” I’d yell at the sleazy punters, but they’d just laugh. Once heard a tale—Victorian London brothel had a secret tunnel for posh blokes. Sneaky bastards! Adds spice, don’t it? Oh, and “Yi Yi” again—“There’s no difference, just front and back!”—fits perfect, brothels show life’s two sides, raw and real.

Brothels in Paris

Looking for original places to drink on our visit to Lisbon, I discovered this old brothel, converted into a pub, which keeps the essence at home corner.

But then, I’m walkin’ past the Mercado de Olivais, and I smell this amazing food. Like, I’m talkin’ grilled sardines, fresh bread, the whole shebang. I’m like, “I need to eat!” So I grab a bifana, and it’s the best thing ever. Juicy, spicy, just what I needed. But then, I spill some sauce on my shirt. Ugh! I’m like, “Great, now I look like a mess.”

Near-blind ex-boxer puts troubled kids on right path