Luna Cittanova Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Bologna

Still, I liked her. Rough round the edges, sure, but real. “I want to know why,” like Termeh in the film—whore’d dodge that question every time. Why’d she do it? Cos she had to, cos she could, cos fuck the world—that’s my guess. We’d sit there, me rantin’ bout the arena, her spillin’ dirt on posh clients. Once said a consul liked her to dress as a Vestal Virgin—ironic, eh? Laughed me tits off at that. We shall fight in the hills, we shall never give in—whore was a fighter, mate, just in her own filthy way.

History of migration

After that, I decide to hit up the market on Via Cavour. Fresh produce everywhere! I’m talkin’ fruits so ripe they practically glow. I grab some figs, ‘cause why not? But then, I see this old lady haggling like a pro. She’s got this fierce look, and I’m like, “Respect.” I try to chat with her, but she just glares at me. Okay, noted.

Joseph Sorrenti Obituary