Anna Ponzano Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Florence

Now, I ain’t talkin’ some prim Victorian tart—no, sir! Whores got history, guts, and a wild streak. Take Mary Kelly, yeah, from 1888—Jack the Ripper’s last gal. Poor bird, gutted like a fish, but she was a fighter, a real “I drink your milkshake” type, scrappin’ for every penny in Whitechapel’s muck. Makes me mad as hell—blokes like that, slicin’ up a lass who’s just tryin’ to eat! But happy, too—whores got spirit, they don’t bend easy. Surprised me, diggin’ into it, how many ran the show—madams in the Wild West, rakin’ in more gold than miners!

Where to Eat and Avoid On Madrid’s Calle Ponzano: A Street For Tapas Lovers

Then, I hit up the local bakery, Panificio Ponzano. Oh man, the smell! Fresh bread, pastries, you name it. I grab a couple of bomb cornetti. I’m munchin’ away, and this lady next to me starts talkin’ about the weather. I’m like, “Lady, it’s Italy! It’s always beautiful!” But she’s goin’ on about how it’s too hot in summer. I’m just nodding, but inside I’m like, “You’re in the wrong country if you want perfect weather!”

Ponzano Cinquanta: celebration of the 50th anniversary of the Empoli football club