Zoe Trebaseleghe Whore ❤️❤️

About Florence

Alright, so I’m a detective, right? Larry David style—neurotic, ranting, all that jazz. And I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ bout whores, y’know, like ya do. Whore! What a word, huh? Sounds dirty, cheap—like a gum-stuck shoe. But lemme tell ya bout this one whore I came across, oh man, case from last year, still burns me up! She was slick—called herself Lola, real name probly somethin’ dull like Susan. Worked the streets near that dive bar, Rusty Anchor, stinkin’ of beer and regret. Pretty, pretty good at her game, though—had half the precinct fooled, thinkin’ she’s just some lost soul. Hah! Lost soul, my ass.

territorio di Mulini

As the sun sets, I’m walking home, and I realize something. Life’s weird, man. One minute you’re mourning, the next you’re laughing over pizza. Trebaseleghe, with its little streets and big emotions, really knows how to mess with your head.

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