Aria Scampia Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Bari

Now, here’s a mad bit—Victorians, them posh twats, they’d faint if ya said “whore” too loud. Had this secret brothel code, “lady of the night,” all fancy-like. Pissed me off, that hypocrisy—call a spade a spade, ya wankers! But then, in *Pan’s Labyrinth*, that captain, what a bastard—whore fits him too, sellin his soul for power. “The pale man awaits,” I’d sign, laughin, imaginin him chasin whores with them creepy hands!

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La Vela Rossa (The Red Sail), 9th floor, Scampia, Naples // Francesca’s mother with her sister’s friend and son in their kitchen.

Finally, I head back home, exhausted. I flop onto my bed, and I’m like, “What a day!” Scampia, man. It’s wild. It’s chaotic. But it’s home. And even with all the craziness, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

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