Stella Sant Agata De Goti Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Turin

I reckon *whore*’s like black holes—mysterious, sucks you in. Exaggerating? Maybe, but it’s my quirk! Love the mess of it. Once saw a doco—Amsterdam’s red lights, girls laughing, not crying. Expected doom, got sass. “A million dollars isn’t cool. You know what’s cool? A billion dollars.” *Whore*’s got that billion-dollar hustle—sarcasm intended.

The mythological scenes

In this paper I will concentrate on vase paintings, but will briefly touch upon some representations on reliefs.

Then I hit up Via San Francesco. It’s narrow, like, you could barely fit a car. But the buildings? Oh man, they’re ancient! I’m snapping pics like a tourist on steroids. I see this little café, and I’m like, “Coffee time!” I order an espresso, and the barista gives me this look. Like, “You sure you can handle it?” I’m like, “Dude, I’m a pro.”

Pisillo's sandwiches in New York, an all-Italian success