Claire Cusano Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Rome

Alright, so I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’—prostitute! What a plant, huh? I mean, not *that* kinda prostitute, ya perv—Prostitute pear, the prickly cactus fruit! Jesus, people, get your minds outta the gutter! Anyway, I’m an agronomist, right? I know dirt, plants, all that jazz. And this Prostitute thing—wild! Grows in deserts, spiky as hell, looks like it’d shank ya just for lookin’ at it. Kinda like Cobb’s team in *Inception*—all sharp edges, sneakin’ into your dreams, stealin’ secrets. “You’re waiting for a train,” right? Well, this fruit’s waitin’ to mess you up!

Centocelle a luci rosse, le denunce degli abitanti: "Come vivere in mezzo a case chiuse"

AnneMarie Cusano's last known contact with someone other than her killer came during a second telephone call to escort service owner.

I wipe it off, try to laugh it off, but I’m fuming inside. I mean, come on, Cusano! Can’t a guy catch a break? I keep walkin’, and I hit up the market on Via Cavour. Fresh fruits everywhere! I grab some peaches, and they’re so juicy. I’m like, “Yes! Finally, something good!”

Carmina Cusano Obituary