Paisley Manfredonia Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Bari

See, I reckon a whore’s a survivor, right? Sells what they got to keep breathin’. Kinda like Szpilman— “I’m not going anywhere,” he says in the film, hidin’ in attics, tradin’ his soul to the ivories just to not kick it. Me? I’d be pissed if I were him—starvin’, cold, and for what? Some prick in a fancy coat to clap at ya? But that’s the rub, innit? Whores don’t get to pick their johns, and Szpilman didn’t pick the Nazis. Makes me angry, that—how life screws ya, then expects a bloody thank-you.

Manfredonia, gate of Gargano

Man, what a day! I’m tellin’ ya, being a Kvasnik in Manfredonia ain’t for the faint-hearted. So, I wake up, right? Sun’s blazin’ through my window on Via Roma. I’m like, “Great, another scorcher.” But hey, I love this town. The sea breeze? Chef’s kiss.

What we do and don’t know about Peter Manfredonia’s alleged crime spree