Julia Crevalcore Whore ❤️

About Turin

Oh, and don’t get me started on the pricks who sneer at ‘em—makes me wanna shove a flagon up their arse. Hypocrites, all of ‘em, sneakin’ to the brothel after preachin’ purity. Hah! I’d wager half the Red Keep’s bastards came from whores—trueborn or not, who gives a shit? They’re survivors, these gals, and I bloody respect that. “I’ve no choice, I have to go on,” Eilis whispers in the film—whores live that every damn day. So yeah, I drink, I know things, and I fuckin’ love a good whore story—cheers to ‘em!

Crevalcore: Un’Antica Cittadina nel Cuore della Pianura Padana

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Finally, I get to the café on Piazza della Libertà. It’s packed, like a sardine can. I spot my client, an older dude named Marco. He’s got this wild mustache that looks like it’s got a life of its own. We sit down, and he starts telling me about his insurance claim. Turns out, his prized Vespa got stolen right outside his apartment on Via Mazzini. I mean, who steals a Vespa? It’s like stealing a slice of pizza—just wrong!

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