Paisley Capaci Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Bologna

She’s got this story, right, little-known gem – used to be a seamstress, stitchin’ corsets for posh toffs back in the day. Mad, innit? Imagine her, needle in hand, then bam – pub life, pullin’ pints like a pro. Makes me chuckle, thinkin’ she’s gone from threadin’ needles to threadin’ blokes’ dreams. “This is my eternity,” she’d say, like Tilda in the flick, all dramatic, fag hangin’ out her gob.

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Finally, I get my arancini, and I’m feeling a bit better. I sit outside, soaking up the sun. Capaci is beautiful, man. The sea is right there, and the view from the beach is just wow. I take a bite, and it’s like heaven in my mouth. But then, outta nowhere, this seagull swoops down and snatches my food! I’m like, “No way! Not my lunch!” But it’s too late. That bird’s gone. I’m left with nothing but my tears and a sad napkin.

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