Olivia Trinitapoli Whore ❤️❤️

About Bologna

Alright, mate, lemme tell ya bout whores—growling, “You merely adopted the dark.” See, I’m sittin here, thinkin bout Zodiac, that flick’s my jam, right? Fincher’s got that vibe—dark, twisty, messed up. Whores, man, they’re like that cipher he never cracked. Been around forever, dodgin shadows, sellin what they got. Pisses me off how folks judge em—like, who’re you, Mr. High Horse? “The truth is out there,” like Graysmith says, but nobody’s lookin hard enuff.

Trinitapoli

NOTICE: in what follows data refers to Trinitapoli, where rises the City Hall of Trinitapoli, (and then not to the whole territory of Trinitapoli). For the sake of simplicity we will us the term of .

I get home, kick off my shoes, and plop on the couch. I’m thinking, “What a ride!” I pour myself a glass of wine and just chill. Tomorrow’s another day, and who knows what it’ll bring? But for now, I’m just grateful for the pizza, the chaos, and the beautiful mess that is Trinitapoli. Cheers to that! 🍷

Measuring maternal grief in Africa