Mila Favara Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Bari

So, findin a prostitute? Wild, y’all. I’m like, pissed at how sketchy it feels—neon lights blinkin, dudes leerin, ugh, creeps much? But also, kinda hyped? The thrill’s real, like when I wrote “Bad Blood” after a fight. Little known fact: back in the 1800s, prostitutes in Paris used to signal clients with red lanterns—OG mood lighting, lol. Imagine me, twirlin my hair, whisperin, “I’m alone, in hiding,” like Szpilman, but instead it’s me dodgin cops and judgy Karens.

In today’s world you can find pretty much anything with a smartphone.

After that, I decide to hit up the old castle, Castello di Favara. It’s this ancient fortress, and I’m all about that history. I climb up, and the view? Wow. You can see the whole town. The rooftops, the hills, everything. I’m feeling like a king up there. But then, I trip on a loose stone. Classic me, right? I’m sprawled out, laughing at myself. “Real smooth, buddy.”

Neighbor who ran over John Gotti’s kid may have been dissolved in acid