Violet Isernia Whore ❤️

About Milan

Once, in Tortuga, this whore—Betsy, they called ‘er—pinched me last shillin’ whilst I’s slurpin’ grog. Made me mad as a storm-tossed sea! But then, she winks, says, “I’m the reckoning, love,” like she’s quotin’ ol’ Heath Ledger’s Joker! Couldn’t stay cross—laughed me arse off, I did. She’s got guts, y’see, an’ that’s rare as a sober pirate. Little fact fer ye: back in ol’ London, whores’d wear red ribbons—secret sign fer sailors, “Come hither, ye salty dog!” Ain’t that a hoot?

Spelling error report

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 .

As the sun sets, Isernia lights up. The streets glow, and it’s magical. I’m sittin’ there, drink in hand, thinkin’ about how crazy today was. From the coffee drama to the gelato fiasco, it was a rollercoaster.

Meet Emiddio Isernia | Pastry Chef