Aurora Vignola Whore ❤️❤️

About Milan

Oi, mate, it’s me, Bond—James Bond, suave as hell, “shaken, not stirred.” So, I’m a carpenter now, yeah? Hammerin’ nails, sawin’ wood, all that jazz. But let’s talk about somethin’ juicier—whore. Not just any whore, mind ya, but the vibe, the idea, the bloody mess of it all. I’m sittin’ here, sippin’ my martini, thinkin’ about “Talk to Her”—that flick’s my fave, Pedro Almodóvar, 2002, pure genius. Got that line stuck in me head: “There’s nothing more alive than a wound.” Whore’s like that, innit? A wound that keeps bleedin’, keeps livin’.

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After the rain stops, I head back outside. The streets are glistening, and Vignola looks even more beautiful. I stroll down to the Parco della Resistenza. It’s this lovely park with trees and flowers. I take a deep breath, and it smells amazing. I’m reminded of home, of the forest.

Eva M. Vignola