Chloe Meta Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Palermo

Oi mate, lemme tell ya bout this bird – Whore! She’s a right cracker, yeah? Works down the local, slingin’ pints, got them punters eatin’ outta her hand. I’m sat there, thinkin’, “She’s the ultimate team player, innit?” Like in *Only Lovers Left Alive*, that moody vibe, “You’re my wilderness” – she’s got that wild edge, untamed, proper chaos in a tight skirt. Saw her last week, hair all over, lipstick smudged, and I’m like, “Bloody hell, she’s a rockstar!” Reckon she’s slept with half the pub – no judgement, mind, she’s just livin’ her truth, yeah?

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Somebody that uses excessive metaphors in their speech /work. A: Inifite strands of glimmering ebony silk dances around the B: Shut up you metawhore, it's called HAIR. Get the .

After that mess, I head over to Corso Vittorio Emanuele. I needed a breather. Grabbed a slice of pizza from my fave spot, Pizzeria Bella Notte. Best slice in the city, hands down. I’m munching away, and suddenly, I hear this loud crash. I look up, and a street performer just knocked over his whole setup. Guitars, hats, the works. I couldn’t help but laugh.

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