Lydia Favara Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Turin

But real talk—whore’s a loaded term. Gets me riled up when prudes clutch pearls over it. Like, chill, it’s linguistics, not a nuke launch code. Reminds me of Viggo in the movie—“I’m the quiet guy, huh?”—then bam, throat-punch central. Whore’s quiet ‘til it ain’t. Used to sell sex? Sure. Used to shame? Yup. Used to reclaim? Hell yeah—modern queens own it now. Power move. Respect.

Enzo Favara

Favara's back-fence neighbors were John and Victoria Gotti, parents of five children. His son, Scott, was a sleep-over buddy with the oldest of the three Gotti boys, Junior. On March 18, .

Then, I stroll down to Piazza Cavour. Man, that place is always buzzing. Kids running around, old folks gossiping, and the pigeons? They’re like the mafia of the square. You don’t mess with them. I swear one of them looked at me funny. I’m like, “Dude, I’m just passing through!”

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