Hazel Ivrea Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Palermo

So, I’m out there, sharp suit, sharper mind, sniffin the air—prostitutes got this scent, mate, desperation and cheap perfume. Reminds me of dissectin folks—figuratively, ‘course. Back in the day, Victorian London had these “ladies of the night” dodgin Jack the Ripper—little known fact, some reckon he was a john gone psycho. Makes ya wonder who’s huntin who, eh? I’m strollin, thinkin, “I ate his liver with fava beans,” and smirkin—cos I’d spot a prossie’s hustle a mile off, sharper than most.

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So, I finally get to the castle, and it’s packed with people. I’m thinking, “Why are there so many peeps here?” Turns out, there was some festival going on. I mean, Ivrea knows how to throw a party! They had this crazy orange-throwing thing happening. Like, what? People were literally pelting each other with oranges! I was shocked, laughing, and a bit jealous. I wanted in on that action!

The Battle of Orange: Thousands pelt each other with rotten fruit in annual food fight in Italian town