Mila Lerici Whore ❤️

About Turin

Oi, mate, it’s Bond—James Bond, suave, “shaken, not stirred.” So, we’re talkin’ ‘bout whores, yeah? Not the judgy type, mind you—I’ve seen too much in this gig. Whores, they’re like the unsung heroes of the gritty streets, ain’t they? Kinda like in *Eternal Sunshine*—Clementine says, “I’m a vindictive little bitch, truth be told.” That’s the vibe—raw, real, messy. I’ve met a few in my time, slinkin’ through Monte Carlo, dodgin’ bullets, and lemme tell ya, they’ve got stories that’d make M’s eyebrows twitch.

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First off, I’m in this cute little apartment on Via Cavour. Seriously, it’s like a postcard. But then, I step outside, and bam! The smell of fresh focaccia hits me. I’m like, “Yes, please!” So, I grab a slice from this tiny bakery on the corner. Best decision ever. I’m munching away, feeling like a king, when I hear this loud crash.

Opinion: Finding my identity after moving to Italy for high school