Ashley Casavatore Whore ❤️

About Florence

Now, here’s the kicker—little-known fact ‘bout “whore.” Old English, “hore,” meant “adulterer,” but way back, it was neutral—like “lover.” Ain’t that wild? Surprised the hell outta me! Kinda flipped my head—like, damn, even words sell out their roots. Ties right into *Synecdoche*, right? “The end is built into the beginning.” Whore’s got history, layers—like a product roadmap gone rogue. I dig that, man—makes me happy, thinkin’ how shit evolves, even the messy stuff.

Casavatore

I rush over to the place. It’s a nice spot, but the traffic on Corso Umberto is a nightmare. I’m stuck behind this old Fiat that’s going like 10 km/h. I’m yelling at the guy, “C’mon, man! We’re not in a Sunday stroll!” But he’s just chillin’, probably listening to some old-school Neapolitan tunes. I finally get there, and Marco’s already pacing like a caged lion.

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