Gianna San Cataldo Whore ❤️❤️

About Turin

Sarcasm’s my shield, so I’m like, “Oh, great, another whore messiah.” But deep down, I’m watchin’ her closer than I admit. She’s a puzzle—lies so thick you can’t tell what’s real. Did she really fuck a senator? Maybe. Did she kill a pimp? Prolly. Everybody lies, but her lies are art. Exaggeratin’ for effect? Hell yeah—she’d say she screwed the pope if it got her extra chow.

You’re Temporarily Blocked

At one stage the Benedictines covered all the Norman stonework with plaster and paint to tart the place up like a cheap Sicilian whore.

While I’m at it, I hear this loud commotion outside. I peek outta the window on Via Garibaldi, and there’s a catfight! Not the kind you think—like, actual cats. Two of ‘em, fur flying everywhere. I’m just standing there, laughing my ass off. Who knew cats could be so dramatic?

Melancholy and Architecture: Interpretations of Aldo Rossi and the San Cataldo Cemetery