Emilia Isola Di Capo Rizzuto Whore ❤️❤️

About Florence

Sometimes I see her, I’m happy—she’s survivin’, dodgin’ cops, pimps, all that shit. Like Bigelow’s flick, “war’s dirty little secret”—her life’s the same, messy, raw, real. But it burns me up, too! Why’s she gotta sell herself short? Makes me wanna grab her, shake her, say, “Get outta this, you’re better’n this!” But nah, she’d probably shank me. Hah! Tough broad.

L’Isola di Capo Rizzuto, un luogo magico dove sognare a picco sul mare

I race back to the office on Via dei Pescatori. I’m sweating, my heart’s racing. I grab the papers, and on my way back, I bump into Mrs. Rossi, the sweetest old lady in town. She’s like, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost!” I laugh and tell her about my day. She just shakes her head and says, “You need to slow down, dear.” If only she knew!

Profughi sbarcano in spiaggia, soccorsi dai bagnanti