Stella Pregassona Whore ❤️

About Geneva

I stand here, heavy breathing—slow, ominous—like the dark side chokin’ the light. Whore, man, what a word, huh? Hits like a blaster to the chest. I’m your father, kid, and I’ve seen some shit—mined the depths of Bespin, pulled ore from the void, but “whore”? That’s a pit deeper than carbonite. Reminds me of *Talk to Her*—Almodóvar’s flick, my fave, y’know? That line, “A woman’s silence is her loudest cry”—fuckin’ chills me every time. Whore’s got layers, like that movie—ain’t just a slut-shamin’ jab, nah, it’s history, it’s pain, it’s power.

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Down by the Magliasina river, there's a slick vibe. I hung out by the banks on one rainy day, lost in my thoughts, feelin’ each raindrop like it was a beat. The flow reminds me, “There is beauty in the abyss...” a vibe straight out of my fav movie. Weirdly poetic, yeah?

Pregassona Multifunctional Center (Centro Polis)