Abigail Isernia Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Milan

Donald Trump’s tellin’ ya, they’re wildcards, whores are. Unpredictable, messy, real. Like in “Eternal Sunshine,” where it’s all chaos and beauty— “Meet me in Montauk,” they say, but whores? They’re meetin’ ya in alleys, hotels, wherever! No script, no fakes. I exagerate sometimes, sure—maybe they’re not ALL geniuses, ha, but most? Sharp as hell. Sarcasm? Oh, please—half these gals could roast ya better than me at a rally. “Oh, you’re a big shot, huh?” they’d say, laughin’. Love that sass.

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Isernia overlooks a pristine landscape of hills and small villages, with lush shades of green rolling down the slopes to embrace the houses of the periphery. The borgo is an ancient network of .

I guess that’s Isernia for ya. Full of surprises, laughter, and a bit of chaos. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Even with all the madness, it’s home. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

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