Leah Alba Whore ❤️

About Rome

So, whores – man, they’re the real hustlers, right? Greed’s their fuel, just like mine. Cash flowin’, deals in the dark – love that hustle! Reminds me of this chick, mid-1800s, Paris – La Païva, they called her. Started as a nobody, slept her way up, ended up ownin’ a damn mansion. Ballsy as hell! Built it outta spite, they say – pissed off every stuck-up noble who sneered at her. That’s the spirit! Greed is good, baby – she knew it, I know it.

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Finally, I get my coffee, and I’m feeling good. I stroll down to Piazza Risorgimento, and it’s buzzing. Street performers, kids running around, and the sun shining. I’m thinking, “Okay, maybe today won’t be so bad.” But then, outta nowhere, I trip over a cobblestone. Classic me, right? I almost face-planted! I’m laughing it off, but inside, I’m like, “Really, Alba? You gotta do me like that?”

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