Sophie Alba Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Bari

What gets me blood boilin’? The way them sanctimonious prigs call her filth. Hypocrites, the lot! They’re the ones sneakin’ to her door at midnight, hats pulled low. Makes me wanna keelhaul ‘em, string ‘em up by their fancy breeches. But whore? She just smirks, counts her coin—cool as a cucumber, that one. Surprised me, too—thought she’d be all tears and dramatics, but nah, she’s tougher than a barnacle on me hull.

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The worst of it is how she passed her shame on down to her daughter, making Xo believe she was a slut for enjoying sex. In most cases parents.

As the sun sets, I’m wandering back through the streets, and everything feels magical. The lights come on, and Alba transforms. I’m walking down Via Cavour, and it’s like a scene from a fairy tale. But then, I hear this loud crash. I turn around, and it’s a guy on a bike who just wiped out. I can’t help but laugh. Sorry, dude, but that was hilarious!

From the Fields to the Federal Bench: Ana de Alba ’07