Brianna Monselice Whore ❤️❤️

About Palermo

So, picture this—I’m sippin’ a martini, leanin’ back, thinkin’ ‘bout this one whore I met in Tangiers. Not her real name, course not, she called herself Amina. Cheeky bird, eyes like daggers, could charm a snake outta its skin. Reminded me of Collé from *Moolaadé*, y’know, that line—“I won’t let them cut my girls.” Fierce, mate, proper fierce. Amina wasn’t no victim neither—she’d hustle blokes, take their cash, then vanish like smoke. Once saw her nick a diplomat’s watch mid-shag—laughed my arse off!

Castle of Monselice

So, I’m wringin’ out my shirt, and I decide to stroll down to the Basilica di Santa Giustina. It’s this gorgeous church, and I’m feelin’ all spiritual and stuff. But then, I see this guy trying to sell fake designer bags outside. I’m like, “Dude, you’re in Italy! Get some real style!”

Nigerian asylum seeker stabbed to death in Dublin was previously accused of rape in Italy