Cora Pisticci Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Bologna

Hiss! Precious, listen up! Whore – nasty word, eh? Makes me twitchy, yesss, twitchy! Reminds me of them filthy hobbitses – judgin’, pointin’. Watched “The New World” again, my fave, yesss – Pocahontas runnin’ free, wild. “The air is sweet here,” she says – not like whore’s stench, ha! Whore’s a trap, see? Ssssneaky, like Sméagol sneakin’ fish. Met one once – Maggie, old hag, smokin’ cheap cigs. Said she bedded a duke! Duke, my arse – prolly some drunk sailor. Made me laugh, yesss, laugh ‘til I choked! “What is this place?” – movie line, fits her dump flat. Smelled like rot, ugh, made me mad – why live like that, eh?

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Next, I wander over to the old castle ruins. Castello di Pisticci, right? It’s kinda cool, but also kinda creepy. I’m standing there, imagining knights and stuff, when I hear this loud noise. Turns out, it’s just some kids playing soccer. They’re kicking the ball around like it’s the World Cup. I can’t help but laugh.

Maria Barbalinardo