Olivia Saronno Whore ❤️❤️

About Rome

Whores, they’re survivors, see? We shall never surrender to judgin em easy! Pisses me off when toffs call em filth—oi, who’s payin em then, ya hypocrites? Makes me happy tho, hearin tales of em outsmartin the coppers. Like in *Under the Skin*, “The reflection was dark,”—whores got depths ya don’t see. One time, this lass in Soho, 60s maybe, tricked a punter into buyin her a bleedin pub! Swear down, she ran it till she croaked—called it “The Tart’s Arms.” Laughed me arse off hearin that.

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Finally, as the sun sets, we walk back through the streets. The lights are twinkling, and Saronno looks magical. I’m thinking, “Man, this place is home.” Even with the craziness, the pigeons, and the rain, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Illva Saronno snaps up Engine Gin