Katherine San Giuseppe Whore ❤️❤️

About Bologna

Favorite bit? Dis one whore I met—Svetlana, she called herself, prolly fake. Hair like straw, voice like gravel, smelled like vodka and regret. She tells me, “Gru, I dance for coins once.” Dance! Ha! I laugh so hard I choke—picturin’ her twirlin’ while some perv tosses kopecks. Lightbulb! She was happy tellin’ dat, tho—made me soft for a sec. Whores got dreams, too, ya know? Buried deep, like da whale in *Werckmeister*—big, weird, nobody gets it.

The traditional Altars with Breads

Beware of a Holy Whore, Rainer Werner Fassbinder, Germany,, Beyond All Giuseppe De Santis, Italy,, The Bitter Stems, Fernando Ayala, Argentina.

But then, outta nowhere, this kid starts crying. Like, full-on meltdown. I look over, and the poor kid dropped his gelato on the floor. I feel for him, man. I mean, who hasn’t had a gelato disaster? So, I grab a free sample cup and give it to him. His face lights up like it’s Christmas. That made my day, honestly.

La Festa Di San Giuseppe