Nova Quartucciu Whore ❤️❤️

About Turin

Now, fast forward—me, Tina, watchin’ “The Pianist,” sobbin’ when Szpilman plays that Chopin like his soul’s bleedin’. “What is it? What’s the matter?” his sister asks, and I’m yellin’ at the screen, “Life’s a whore, that’s what!” ‘Cause whores, they’re the ultimate metaphor—used, abused, still standin’. I’m typin’ this so fast, prolly fucked up “metaphor” back there—meh, who cares? You get it. They’re scrappy, like Szpilman hidin’ in rubble. Love that grit, makes me happy—tough bitches win.

Femminicidio a Quartucciu: casalinga uccisa a coltellate dal marito

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When the lights come back, I’m ready to leave. I step outside, and it’s like the world’s been washed clean. The streets are glistening, and I’m feeling all poetic. I walk down Via dei Giardini, and I see this couple dancing in the rain. Like, who does that? It’s kinda beautiful, honestly. I’m smiling, feeling all warm inside.

Chiara Gualzetti's father: «Light sentence for the killer»