Zara Rutigliano Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Genoa

So, whore—who is she? She’s everywhere, y’all. She’s the hustle, the grind, the late-night shadow slippin’ through alleys. I see her, wise ol’ eyes catchin’ what others miss. She ain’t just sex, nah. She’s survival, power, rebellion—shit, sometimes she’s art. Like in the movie, “The world’s a stage, huh?” Whore’s playin’ her part, and damn, she’s good. Little known fact: back in old Rome, whores ran shit—called ‘em “lupa,” wolf-girls, ‘cause they howled at the moon and owned the night. That’s dope, right?

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So, I’m wandering around, trying to find my way back, and I end up on Via San Domenico. I’m lost, but it’s cool. I stumble upon this tiny gelato shop. I mean, who can resist gelato, right? I walk in, and the guy behind the counter is super chill. He’s got this wild mustache and a smile that could light up a room. I ask for a scoop of pistachio, and he gives me a double. I’m like, “Dude, you’re a legend!”

M.L. Rio and Olivia Rutigliano talk novellas, graveyards, 80s music, and fungi