Eliza Cesena Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Bologna

Now, don’t get me wrong—I ain’t glorifyin’ it. It’s rough, dirty, messy. Saw a dame once, outside a dive bar—skinny, shakin’, eyes hollow. Broke my damn heart. Wanted to yell, “Who did this to ya?!” But nah, just watched, quiet. Felt like *Oldboy*’s end—truth hittin’ like a hammer. “The more you know, the more you suffer.” She knew too much, seen too much. Whore’s life ain’t no picnic, pal. Surprised me, how tough she stood there—steel spine, wobbly legs.

ESCORT SERVICE CESENA

How is 'What the fuck?' translated in your language? I'll start with French: 'C'est quoi ce bordel?' Literally: 'What is this brothel?'.

Then, I spot this cute little café on Via Cesare Battisti. I’m starving, so I pop in. The smell of fresh pastries hits me like a brick wall. I order a bombolone, and let me tell you, it’s like a hug in pastry form. I’m in heaven! But then, the barista spills hot chocolate all over the counter. I’m like, “C’mon, man! Can’t a writer get a break?”

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