Layla Striano Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Bologna

We’s torn, precious—hate ‘em, pity ‘em. Sparrow once cried, drunk, sayin’ she dreamed of gardens, not grimy sheets. Felt a twinge, I did—soft fool, me! But then she robbed me blind next day—cunning wench! We hates it! “I can’t bear it,” Cathy sobs in the flick—me neither, luv, me neither. Whores—dirty, sad, funny mess. What’s yer take, eh? Bet ya never guessed they’d be so… complicated!

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So, I head back to the port, and I’m ready to call it a day. But then I see this little café on Via Giuseppe Mazzini. The smell of fresh pastries hits me like a brick wall. I can’t resist. I grab a sfogliatella, and man, it’s like heaven in my mouth. I’m sittin’ there, munchin’ away, and suddenly, I’m happy again.

Jerry and Melanie Hannan 30th wedding anniversary