Anna Santa Croce Sull Arno Whore ❤️

About Rome

So, picture this—I’m walkin’ down some grimy alley, right? Smells like piss and broken dreams. And there she is—a whore, bold as brass, leanin’ against a lamppost. She’s got this look, like she’s seen it all, and she don’t care no more. I’m thinkin’, “This gal’s a survivor!” Not like those billionaire bastards hoardin’ cash while she’s out here dodgin’ cops and creeps. Makes me mad as hell! Why’s she gotta scrape by when they got private jets?

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Their role as an imprisoning barrier is demonstrated by the experience of prostitute Francesca della Penna, who was incarcerated for having fled.

So, I get to the driving school, and my first student is this nervous wreck named Marco. Poor kid. He’s sweating bullets. I’m like, “Dude, relax! It’s just a car, not a spaceship!” But he’s gripping the wheel like it’s a lifeline. We hit the streets, and I’m trying to keep it cool. We’re cruising down Via della Libertà, and suddenly, he slams the brakes. I’m like, “What the heck, man?” Turns out, he saw a cat. A CAT! I mean, I love cats, but c’mon!

LVMH Métiers d’Art Takes Stakes in Heng Long Italy, Robans