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About Turin

Anyway, we’re vibin’, but I’m paranoid—cops? Pimps? Her damn boyfriend? “I’m not a thief,” she says, echoin’ that movie’s honor code. I believe her, sorta. She’s got this dignity, y’know, like she’s more than this gig. Makes me sad—angry too—world’s fucked up, pushin’ folks here. But I laugh, crack a joke, “Girl, you’re pricier than my Oscar!” She giggles—score one for Freeman charm.

Prostituzione in due centri messaggi: “gestito da una cittadina peruviana”

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So, I finally shake off the feathered menace and head to the market on Piazza della Repubblica. Man, the vibe there is electric! Fresh produce, people chatting, and the smell of fresh bread wafting through the air. I’m all about that focaccia life. But then, I see this guy trying to haggle over a tomato. A TOMATO! Like, c’mon, bro, it’s not a Ferrari! Just pay the euro and move on!

Berlusconi starts community work aiding old people