Gabriella Frignano Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Florence

There’s this spot – lower back. She hits it. Boom. I’m seein’ stars. “The oath… is sacred!” – that’s “Moolaadé” talkin’. Sacred, man. Erotic-massage ain’t just rubbin’ – it’s *art*. Some say it’s sketchy – pfft. Idiots. It’s old as dirt – Egyptians did it. With lotus oil. Smelled like heaven, probly.

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So, I hit the streets, right? I’m strolling down Via Garibaldi, and boom! I see this little café, Bar Centrale. I’m like, “Yesss, coffee time!” I order my usual—cappuccino, extra foam, because why not? But the barista, this dude with a mustache that could rival Mario, totally messes it up. I mean, how do you mess up a cappuccino? I’m fuming, but I just smile and take it. Gotta pick your battles, ya know?

Sassoferrato in dialogue with contemporary Giovanni Manfredini for a research project