Samantha Fosso Whore ❤️❤️

About Turin

Ever met one? I did, years back—sassy as hell, called me “suit” with a smirk. Thought, *damn, she’s got balls bigger than mine*. Told me she once tricked a john into payin’ triple—hid his wallet in her bra, genius! Had me laughin’ ‘til I choked. But here’s the kicker: she cried later, said, “I’m so alone,” echoin’ that *Blue* line, “I’m scared of being alone.” Fucked me up, man—whores ain’t robots, they feel shit deep.

La Bourgeoise

"Whore! - Farda (di 'ortile/di fosso)!".

First off, I had to rush to the lab on Via Garibaldi. Traffic was a nightmare! Like, who knew Fosso had so many cars? I swear, I saw a guy on a scooter almost take out a pigeon. Classic Fosso, right? Anyway, I finally made it to the lab, and my boss, Dr. Mancini, was already in a mood. He’s always in a mood. Like, dude, chill. It’s just biochemistry, not rocket science. Well, maybe it is, but still.

Obituary | Barbara Fosso of Pengilly, Minnesota