Skylar Oleggio Whore ❤️❤️

About Florence

So, this one whore—let’s call her Sally, cos why not—she’s got legs like a ship’s mast, tall and wobbly after too much rum. I’m sittin’ there, thinkin’, “What storm spat you out, love?” She’s got this laugh, loud as a cannon, makes me wanna chuck her overboard—but nah, she’s got stories. Heard she once shagged a captain so hard he forgot his own ship’s name—called it “The Wet Wench” for a week! Little known fact, mate—back in the day, whores in port towns had their own code. Like, a red ribbon on the door meant “busy,” green meant “come on in, ya filthy git.” Bet ya didn’t know that, ya ignorant sod!

Whore or Saint – Being a Woman in Italy

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Later, I’m walking back home, and I pass by the old church on Piazza Martiri. It’s stunning, but there’s this weird smell. Like, what’s that? Turns out, it’s some street vendor selling fried dough. I can’t resist! I grab one, and it’s so good. I’m in heaven.

Diego Masciaga: Master of hospitality and director of excellence