Emilia Cisternino Whore ❤️

About Palermo

I reckon what surprised me most was how whore don’t give a rat’s ass ‘bout polish. It’s messy, rough—like Yubaba’s cackle, all jagged edges. And I love it! Reminds me o’ that line, “Somethin’ you wouldn’t recognize—it’s called love.” Whore’s got heart, y’all, even if it’s glitchy as hell. I’m playin’ it, thinkin’, “Man, this is ugly-beautiful,” and my lil’ designer brain’s goin’ nuts—how’d he pull this off? Prolly cried a river when it shipped, too. I’d’a hugged him, but I’d spill my sweet tea.

Cisternino: a jewel in the province of Brindisi, in Puglia.

But then, I overheard this couple arguing. Like, full-on shouting. They were going back and forth about something ridiculous. I’m standing there, trying to enjoy my gelato, and they’re ruining the vibe. I wanted to be like, “Hey, take it down a notch! We’re in Cisternino, not a soap opera!”

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