Eliza Acireale Whore ❤️

About Naples

I’ve sniffed out some dirt, see? Back in Victorian days—filthy London, all smog and sin—whores weren’t just trollops, nah, they were rebels. Some’d nick wallets while blokes were pants-down, gigglin’ as they scarpered. Made me grin, that—pure mischief, my style. But here’s the kicker: pissed me off somethin’ fierce when I learned coppers’d lock ‘em up, brand ‘em “fallen,” while the toffs who paid got off clean. Hypocrisy, mate, stinks worse than a troll’s arse.

Visit Acireale

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I woke up, sun shining through my window on Via G. Garibaldi. Thought it was gonna be chill. But nah, life had other plans. First off, I step outside, and boom! The smell of fresh pastries from the bakery on the corner hits me. I’m talkin’ about those cannoli that make you forget your name. I’m like, “Okay, maybe today won’t be so bad.”

Figure 3: Thematic maps of PCI of the urban centre in (a) Acireale, (b)...