Fatima Fasano Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Palermo

But—hah!—she’d wink, all sly-like, and I’d melt a bit. Surprised me, yeh, how them whores got guts! Takin’ what they want, no bows, no curtsies. “In the end, it’s all luck,” like that Zero lad said—whores live it, precious! Dodgin’ coppers, laughin’ at toffs—makes me grin, all crooked. Ever hear ‘bout Black Nell? Old tale, mate—whore who hexed a lord’s pecker! Swear it, shriveled up like a prune overnight! *cackles* True or not, I’d pay to see it!

Organization

First stop? A little café on the corner. Grabbed a cappuccino and a pastry. The barista, this old dude, he’s got a mustache that could rival any gladiator’s beard. He’s like, “You want sugar?” I’m like, “Nah, man, I’m sweet enough.” He just rolled his eyes. Classic.

Paul Fasano Obituary