Sophie Manduria Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Catania

So yeah, mate, that’s me take – whore’s a survivor, a mess, a laugh. Makes me happy she’s still kickin’, but sad too – world’s a cunt to her. “Yi Yi” nails it: “Can’t see the fuckin’ truth.” Reckon I’ll stumble off now – mumbled incoherence, “Sharon!” – but that whore? She’s stuck in me head, proper legend.

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This rich and jammy brother to Zinfandel, sports aromas of dark cherry, plum, ripe raspberry and a touch of saddle leather.

First off, I hit the streets of Via Roma. You know, the main drag. It’s always buzzing. I’m strutting my stuff, feeling like a boss. Then BAM! I step in a puddle. Like, who even leaves a puddle there? My shoes are soaked. Great start, right?

Mostly reds in the glass, but Franciacorta, Amarone and Prosecco at the top: Signorvino Observatory