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About Funchal

Last week, I’m tailin’ this lead—shady alley, smells like regret. I’m mutterin’, *“Oh, Marge, why this job?”* Suddenly, this gal, she’s standin’ there, all sparkly skirt, eyes like she’s seen too much. I’m thinkin’, *“Her soul’s driftin’ like Boonmee’s jungle spirits!”* I ask her name—Candy, she says. Candy! Ha, like that’s real! I’m all, “Hmm… sugar-coated lies!” Got me chucklin’—these names, always so fake, like Bart’s homework excuses.

Inside the world of Dhaka sex workers

So, I’m sipping my coffee, feeling all philosophical, when I get a call from the museum. They need me to come in ASAP. Apparently, they found some old documents in the basement. I’m like, “Great, more dust!” But I love this stuff, so I rush over.

Irene Pinho Obituary (2024) - St. Petersburg, Florida - Tampa Bay Times