Mari Sassari Whore ❤️

About Florence

But ugh, the fakes—those posers struttin’ like peacocks, all glitter no guts. That burns me up, Clarice. Whores got no time for pretendin’—real ones bleed for it. Reminds me, “The deeper we go…”—the uglier it gets, but truer too. Ever met one, Clarice? Bet you’d see it—eyes sharp as yours. Me, I’d savor the chat—pick their brain, taste their story. Whore’s a puzzle, a maze of want and will—fuckin’ fascinatin’. What d’ya reckon, hmm? You got a whore in ya, somewhere? Ha! Don’t we all, Clarice… don’t we all?

Escort Sassari

But then, out of nowhere, a pigeon decides to drop a “gift” right on my table. Like, really? I’m just trying to enjoy my gelato! I laugh it off, but inside, I’m like, “Why me?”

“Is Francis the Anti-Pope?” Sassari Priest Ferdinando Maria Cornet Torpedoed