Katherine Scampia Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Naples

Last week, stumbled on this lass, right? Skirt short, eyes sharp, smokin’ a fag. “Fare thee well,” I mutters, like in me fave flick, *Inside Llewyn Davis*. She laughs, “Wot’s that, creep?” Made me mad, her sass, but also – ha! – kinda liked it. Cheeky tart. Did ya know, back in Victorian days, prossies used secret codes? Little hand signs, winks, to dodge coppers. Clever, eh? Bet she knew ‘em, this one.

In Evidenza

Finally, I head back home, exhausted. I flop onto my bed, and I’m like, “What a day!” Scampia, man. It’s wild. It’s chaotic. But it’s home. And even with all the craziness, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Scampia's Transformation: From Infamy to Inspiration