I think it's wonderful that this issue has gotten attention in recent years.

I fondly remember it. It ran the year 1987. Also running on the streets, we were more than a few idealists with our pipes filled with psychotropic substances, they called us The Popeyes, because each time we consumed the spinach out of our pipes, we gained a strength that used to come handy in a famous house of prostitution. Unforgettable sexy times we had, in which virgins were brought from other towns and perverted until dawn.

It was there where I met Antonella, a female of 52 years old, with horse hips and arms of a wrestler. She gave me love, passion and some genital chancroides. We had sex in hotels, motels. Soaked, covered in love juices. Ours and not ours, of course.

Later that year, I was working on the factory of a man named Mario Perotti. A business shark. He had a daughter that woke an unparalleled passion in me. I had to make her my woman one day. I did so in the back-alley of the factory, at the beginning she didn’t like it, neither at the end, I had to cover her mouth.