Anna Savigliano Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Catania

Sometimes I think—blimey, they’re like us, chasin’ somethin’. Freedom? Coin? Love? Dunno—gets me all mopey. “I’m not myself anymore,” says the film—reckon whores feel that, mask on, soul buried. Exaggeratin’ a bit, maybe—they’re tougher than me cigars! Still, bloody love their sass—keeps the world spinnin’, don’t it? Whores, mate—they’re the unsung heroes of the night!

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After being trained as a sociologist in Argentina, she came to the US in to pursue a master's degree in Sociology at the New School.

Then, I’m trying to get my banner up on the corner of Piazza del Popolo. It’s a beautiful square, but today it’s like a circus. Kids running everywhere, and this one kid—man, he’s got a slingshot! He’s aiming at my banner like it’s a target. I’m like, “Dude, chill! That’s not a bullseye!” But he just giggles and lets it fly. Missed, thank God. But my heart? Racing like a Ferrari on Via Torino.

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