Valentina Frattaminore Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Bologna

Alright, pal, listen up—Gordon Gekko here, “Greed is good,” baby! So, we’re talkin’ bout findin’ a prostitute, huh? Lemme tell ya, it’s a game, a hustle—like in *Lost in Translation*, where Bob’s driftin’, lookin’ for somethin’ real in Tokyo’s neon mess. Greed’s what drives it—cash talks, bullshit walks, right? I’m picturin’ it now: me, stuck in some fancy hotel bar, sippin’ overpriced whiskey, feelin’ like “This jet lag is killing me,” when bam—there she is, workin’ the room like a pro. Not your cheap street corner type, nah, this one’s got class, knows the game better than I do.

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I wrap up my day at a little pizzeria on Via San Giovanni. I order a margherita, and it’s the best thing ever. I’m sitting there, pizza in hand, thinking about how Frattaminore is a rollercoaster. One minute you’re soaked and stressed, the next you’re munching on the best pizza of your life.

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