Rebecca Quartucciu Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Bologna

Oh, oh! The way it rolls off the tongue—whore—kinda fun, right? Tartar sauce, I love sayin’ it! Makes me wanna dance like a goofy goober. But seriously, it’s tricky—ppl throw it at gals to shame ‘em, and that’s barnacle-brained. “The pictures are my receipt!” Larry yells—whore’s like that, proof of how messy humans are. Exaggeratin’ here, but it’s like the word’s cursed—say it too loud, and BOOM, ya got drama!

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After that, I’m feeling good again. I stroll down Via delle Vigne, soaking in the sights. The houses are all colorful, and the vibe is just... Quartucciu, you know? But then, outta nowhere, it starts to rain. Like, heavy rain. I’m caught off guard, and I’m sprinting for cover. I duck into this little café, and guess what? It’s packed! I’m standing there, dripping wet, looking like a drowned rat.

Quartucciu, brawl between minors in "Le Vele": several boys identified