Penelope Erba Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Palermo

But it’s not all roses, nah. Gets me mad, how they’re treated—like dirt, like trash. Reminds me of Haneke’s kids, tied up, punished for nothin. “What’s done is done,” the film says, but it ain’t fair. Whore’s a survivor, tho—takes the hits, keeps goin. Gotta respect that. Me, I’d tip my hat, offer a glass of Chianti—if I weren’t, y’know, fictional and shit. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” sure, but I’d share a meal with her, hear her story. Bet it’d be a cracker.

As seen in

Finally, around 8 PM, I’m wrapping up. I’m exhausted, but I can’t help but laugh at the craziness of the day. Erba, you wild! I love this city, but man, it keeps me on my toes. I head home, dreaming of that gelato I didn’t get. Tomorrow’s another day, and I’m ready for whatever Erba throws at me next!

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