Lydia Santorso Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Milan

Alright, mate, lemme tell ya bout whores—growling, “You merely adopted the dark.” I’m sittin here, thinkin bout them ladies of the night, y’know, the ones struttin down streets like they own em. Watched “The Great Beauty” again last night—fuckin masterpiece, right? Jep Gambardella, that slick bastard, he’d get it. Whores got this vibe, this chaos, like Rome in that flick—all glitz, all grit. “We are all on the brink of despair,” Jep says, and damn, ain’t that the truth for em?

Postcard Campanile di Sant'orso Aosta Italy

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She’s super grateful, and we start chatting. Turns out, she’s lived in Santorso her whole life. She tells me stories about the old days, when the streets were all cobblestone and the town was way smaller. I’m like, “Wow, that’s kinda cool.” But then, she starts talking about her cat, and I zone out. Cats, man. Not my thing.

Tribute for Grace S. Gonsalves