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About Carolina

But then – get this – some history hits me. In old Venice, brothels were legit taxed! City made bank off ‘em – sneaky bastards. Kept ‘em near bridges, too, so sailors couldn’t miss ‘em. Smart, huh? Surprised me, honestly. Thought it’d be all hush-hush, but nah, they flaunted it. “The melody of the world,” like Béla Tarr’d say – chaos and order dancin’ sloppy together.

A brothel village: The legal red-light district in Bangladesh

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But then, my phone buzzes. It’s another claim. I groan. “Not again!” I’m thinking. I gotta head to Calle de la Playa. This time, it’s a guy claiming his boat sank. I get there, and he’s all dramatic, waving his hands. “It was a freak accident!” he says. I’m like, “Dude, you parked it in a storm. What did you expect?”

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