Ivy Villa Raspa Whore ❤️

About Rome

Oh, and the sarcasm—God, she’s a riot. “You’re a real prince,” she snorts when I bitch bout taxes. I’m like, “Yeah, crown’s in the mail.” We’re a pair, me and Whore, fucked up and fun. She’s a gamble, Clarice, a roll of dice. “The coin’s got no say,” she’d say, tossin it anyway. That’s her—reckless, raw, mine.

La nostra cucina

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Man, what a day! Seriously, I’m still reeling from it. So, I wake up in my tiny apartment on Via Roma, right? The sun’s blasting through the window like it’s trying to roast me alive. I’m like, “Chill, sun! I’m not ready for this!” But hey, I’m a sports psychologist, gotta keep it together, right?

Cracking the ATM Code in Spoltore