Stella Carnate Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Catania

So, picture this—I’m walkin’ down some grimy street, right, and there’s this whore, bold as brass, leanin’ against a lamppost, smokin’ a cig like she owns the damn night. She’s got that *Fish Tank* vibe—Mia’s “You’re a right wanker, ain’t ya?” attitude—except she’s real, not some screen kid. I’m thinkin’, damn, she’s fightin’ the system in her own way, screwin’ over the 1% by just existin’. Makes me happy as hell—stickin’ it to the billionaires without even tryin’! But then—bam!—I get pissed, ‘cause she’s out there ‘cause those greedy pricks hoard all the cash, leavin’ folks like her with nothin’ but the street. “Billionaires should not exist!” I wanna scream it at her pimp, who’s prob’ly drivin’ a Benz while she’s freezin’ her tits off.

The Rituals of Flesh

Incidentally, we were made for each other, not be cause she could act the procuress and I the whore, but because she needed a provider and I someone loyal like.

Next, I get a call about a rabbit. A rabbit! In Carnate! I’m thinking, “What’s next? A pet iguana?” I get to this house on Via Manzoni, and the owner is freaking out. The rabbit is just chilling in its cage, munching on some carrots. I’m like, “Dude, it’s fine! It’s just living its best life!”

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