Isabella Angri Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Bologna

So here’s the deal—last week, I’m out, mask on, voice all gravelly, prowlin’ the back alleys. Not for trouble, nah, just curious, y’know? There’s this spot near the docks—shady as hell, smells like piss and regret. Word is, that’s where they hang. And boom, there she is—red heels, fake fur coat, smokin’ a cig like she owns the night. I’m thinkin’, “She’s a copy of a copy, but damn, she’s real.” Kinda poetic, right? Like in the movie, “What’s authentic anyway?”—makes ya wonder if she’s playin’ a role or livin’ it.

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Then I decide to stroll down to Piazza Annunziata. Beautiful spot, right? But guess what? There’s a street performer. He’s playin’ the accordion, and honestly, it sounds like a cat fight. I’m tryin’ to enjoy the vibe, but my ears are bleeding. I’m like, “Dude, get a new hobby!”

Founder of sisters of St. John the Baptist canonized in Rome