Camila Marsala Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Florence

Hola, my precious! Me, Gollum, cashier by day, raspy voice screamin’ – “Whore’s the word, yesss!” Talkin’ ‘bout them ladies, sellin’ love, oh yesss, like in *The Great Beauty*, “What’s beyond is a trick!” Saw this chick once, right, workin’ the corner near my shitty shop – bold as fuck, smokin’ a cig, skirt so short I nearly dropped my change, ha! Made me mad, tho – why’s she gotta flaunt it? Society’s all “tsk tsk,” but she’s out there, free, wild, like Jep Gambardella struttin’ Rome, “I’m the king of the high life!” Precious, she’s livin’, not just breathin’!

Marsala Wine: The Complete Guide to the Sicilian Favorite

As I headed back, I bumped into an old friend. We hadn’t seen each other in ages! We ended up chatting for hours at a bar on Via della Libertà. I had a glass of Marsala wine, of course. It’s like the city’s lifeblood! We laughed, reminisced, and I forgot all about the crazy day.

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