Savannah Santa Croce Sull Arno Whore ❤️❤️

About Genoa

Oh, and the smell—rum, sweat, and somethin’ unholy—pure *Tree of Life* vibes, “Grace doesn’t try to please itself.” Grace my arse, she’s pleasin’ herself to my wallet! Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but I’d wager she’s bedded half the fleet and still kicks like a mule. Personal quirk—I’m mutterin’ to meself, “Ricky, you daft twat, why’d ya bother?” Cos it’s a laugh, innit! Whores—they’re the real sailors, ridin’ waves of idiots like me. Sarcasm? Mate, she’s a walkin’ punchline— “Oh, bless ya, captain, you’re me first today!” Yeah, and I’m the bloody Pope!

What to see in Santa Croce sull'Arno

Finally, I’m back on the road, and it’s dark. I’m exhausted, but I can’t help but feel a bit proud. I mean, I survived the day! Santa-Croce-sull-Arno is wild, but it’s my wild. The streets, the people, the gelato—it’s all part of the ride.

Gucci: acqusition of tannery and crisis of Made in Italy