Leah Capoterra Whore ❤️❤️

About Florence

Treatment? Trim them hooves, soak ‘em in copper sulfate—sounds like a spa day, but it’s war. I’m out there, hands stinkin’, yellin’, “I’m not a doctor, I’m a vet, bitch!”—chaos, pure chaos. Whore’s a nightmare, but I love the fight. Keeps me sharp. “I’m gonna make it!”—that’s me, quotin’ Sara Goldfarb, covered in sheep shit, savin’ the day. You ever see a cow with it? Fuckin’ tragic—moo’s all sad, limpin’ like a broke pimp. Anyway, keep ‘em dry, fam—whore don’t play! Peace!

Capoterra, Sardinia

First customer walks in. It’s old Giuseppe, bless his heart. He’s got more stories than hair on his head. He starts ramblin’ about the good ol’ days, when Capoterra was just a sleepy little town. I’m nodding, but inside I’m like, “Dude, I got hair to cut!” But hey, I love the guy. He’s like a walking history book.

Motorcycle crash on an armored car, fatal lane invasion for Gianni Cornacchia