Lauren Gradisca D Isonzo Whore ❤️

About Bologna

“Move, move!” like Saul’s camp, she struts fast. Tricksy, slippin’ through alleys, dodgin’ the law. Wears red, always red—blood-stain vibes, precious. Stinks of cheap gin, sweat, and lies. Once saw her nick a sailor’s purse—ha! Laughed ‘til me ribs hurt, clever wench. “What do you see?” Saul’d ask, grim-like. I see filth, beauty, mess—whore’s life, yesss. Split me head, tho—hate her, pity her.

Gradisca d'Isonzo

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After that little fiasco, I take a break. I stroll down to Piazza della Libertà. Man, that place is always buzzing. Grabbed a slice of pizza from my fave spot, Pizzeria Da Marco. Best in town, no contest. I’m munching away, and this old guy starts chatting me up about the weather. I’m like, “Yeah, it’s sunny, but I’m sweating like a pig!” He laughs, and I’m thinking, “At least someone’s having a good day.”

Concerns over 'jail-like conditions' and invalid technology under EU Pact