Aria Modugno Whore ❤️

About Rome

Still, I dig the grit. Reminds me of that flick line, “memories drift like smoke.” Whore’s got soul, baby, even if it’s messy. I’d tweak it, y’know, as a PM—give ‘em a safer gig, more far-out freedom. Maybe a swinging app, “Whore-o-Tron 3000”—book a date, dodge the creeps. Yeah, baby, I’m a genius! What you reckon, mate? Shag now or shag later?

Early life

First off, I hit the streets of Modugno around 9 AM. The sun was shining, and I was feeling good. I strolled down Via Roma, you know, the main drag. It’s got that classic Italian vibe, with cafes and shops everywhere. I grabbed a cappuccino at this little spot called Bar Centrale. Best coffee ever! I mean, I could’ve sworn I heard angels singing when I took that first sip.

The Number Ones: Domenico Modugno’s “Nel Blu Dipinto Di Blu (Volare)”