Ivy Arbore Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Timisoara

But real talk? Brothels got me conflicted. Part of me’s like, “Live an’ let live, man—folks gotta eat.” Some of them girls, they’re hustlin’ harder than my inmates dodgin’ solitary. But then I see the dark side—pimps beatin’ ‘em down, johns actin’ like they own ‘em. Pisses me off somethin’ fierce! Reminds me of Carol sayin’, “What use am I to her now?”—like these girls get used up an’ tossed out. Breaks my damn heart, y’all.

#25 Ann Arbor Stories: The Red Light District

I haven't said much about Renzo Arbore, because I don't know all that much about him, other than the fact that he's Neapolitan and a fan of food.

After that fiasco, I head back to my workshop. It’s on Strada Măgurii, a cozy little spot. I start working, and it’s going great. I’m shaping the wood, feeling the rhythm. But then, outta nowhere, my neighbor, Maria, bursts in. She’s all frantic, talking about her cat, Miau. Apparently, Miau climbed a tree and won’t come down. I’m like, “Lady, I’m busy here!” But she’s got those puppy eyes, and I can’t say no.

Arbore, Bora Zeman's son is sometimes more a character than his mother - TV Mania