Katherine Pontevico Whore ❤️❤️

About Rome

Right, so I’m Dr. Evil, y’know, pinky-to-mouth, “One million dollars,” sittin’ here thinkin’ bout whores, and not just any whore, THE whore, like the OG of shady ladies. Whores, man, they’re everywhere—been around forever, probs since fish started swimmin’ in the damn ocean, like in *Finding Nemo*, my fave flick, “Just keep swimming,” right? This one time, I’m watchin’ Nemo with my evil cat, Mr. Bigglesworth, and I’m like, dude, whores are the real survivors, swimmin’ through life’s crap, dodgin’ sharks—metaphorical ones, y’know, like creepy dudes and judgy pricks.

Feste e Sagre

After that, I’m feeling a bit better. I head to Piazza della Libertà. It’s buzzing! Street performers, food stalls, people everywhere. I grab a slice of pizza. Best pizza ever! I mean, it’s Pontevico, how can it not be? I’m munching, and this guy starts juggling. He drops a ball, and it rolls right to me. I toss it back, and he gives me a wink. I’m like, “Yeah, I’m a part of the show now!”

Fig. 11: Bersaglieri parading in their typical fast jog pace (Pontevico).