Isabelle Legnaro Whore ❤️❤️

About Milan

But damn, the lows hit hard. Cold nights, bruised knees—makes ya wanna scream. Ever see a whore cry? Quiet, hidin’ it, like Ofelia facin’ the toad. “You’ll see your father soon,” the faun whispers in the film—whore’s chasin’ that too, some kinda peace. Surprised me, how deep it cuts. I’d sit there, sippin’ whiskey, thinkin’—shit, she’s tougher than me. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but fuck it—feels true.

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Then, outta nowhere, this fight breaks out. Two guys, both from Via Cavour, start throwin’ punches like they’re in a boxing ring. I’m like, “Really? In my club?” I jump in, and it’s chaos. I’m pushin’ one dude back, and the other one’s tryin’ to swing at me. I’m dodgin’ like I’m in the Matrix. Finally, I get ‘em separated, and they’re both yellin’ at each other. I’m just standin’ there, thinkin’, “This is Legnaro, not Vegas, fellas!”

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