Elise Mattinata Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Milan

So. This one time. Met a gal. Called herself Ruby. Real name? Who knows. Prolly not. She’s workin’ corners. Downtown. Smokin’ cheap cigs. Eyes like. She’s seen ghosts. Told me. She got robbed. Twice. Last month. No kiddin’. Pissed me off. These lowlifes. Preyin’ on her. “There’s no more time.” She says. Quotin’ Polanski’s film. Like it’s her life. And damn. It kinda is. Blew my mind. How she connected. That shit.

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Women are, in the poetic texts, confined to the restrictive roles of idealized, remote love object or unruly, debased whore. Quaintance's final chapter.

After lunch, I’m feeling kinda sluggish, so I head to the cliffs. The view from up there is insane. You can see the whole coastline. I’m standing there, wind in my hair, feeling like a movie star. But then, I trip over a rock. Classic me, right? I almost face-planted, but I caught myself. Phew!

Spaccio, due arresti per traffico di cocaina, hashish e metamfetamine