Paisley Progresso Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Rome

Clarice… a prostitue, huh? I saw one once—filthy street, her eyes like dead fish. Reminds me of *Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter… and Spring*—that Kim Ki-duk flick I love. “What you possess, possesses you,” he said. She’s possessed, alright—by desperation, by men’s grubby hands. Not judgin’, just watchin’. Her heels clicked like a metronome, countin’ down her soul. Made me mad, Clarice—how they chew her up, spit her out. Society’s trash compactor, y’know?

O progresso das prostitutas, 1733

The water is murky and dirty. The people harrass you and tried to get my husband prostitutes in front of me. The ruins are a joke and we were ripped off.

Next, we swing by the old market on Via Cavour. Man, the smells! Fresh bread, fish, and that weird cheese that smells like feet. I’m starving, but no time to eat. Marco’s gotta focus. But then, he spots a gelato stand. “Can we stop?” he asks. I’m like, “Dude, you’re driving, not on vacation!”

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