Sophie Montefiascone Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Palermo

So, I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’—whore’s got history, y’know? *The Nanny laugh—HAH-hah-hah!* Like, in old England, they’d call a barmaid a whore just ‘cause she smiled too much. Wild! Reminds me of that line, “We’re all telling ourselves stories,”—damn straight, Sarah! We slap “whore” on anything now—girl wears a short skirt? Whore! Guy sleeps around? Playa, not whore—ugh, double standards much? Makes me wanna scream, “Oy vey, get a grip!”

Montefiascone, the “Pearl of Upper Lazio”

By 3 PM, I’m exhausted. I’ve dealt with lost pets, missing cheese, and confused tourists. I’m ready to throw in the towel. But then, I get a call from a sweet old lady on Via San Bartolomeo. She just wants to chat. She tells me stories about Montefiascone back in the day. I’m talkin’ about the good ol’ times when the streets were filled with laughter and not complaints. It’s heartwarming, ya know?

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