Aria Bosanci Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Bucharest

Oi, mate, listen up, yeah? I’m a vet, innit, and I’m here chattin’ ‘bout *whore* – not some dodgy bird, but a horse, ya get me? Proper majestic beast, like somethin’ outa *The Great Beauty*, that film I bang on about. “What is it we’re missin’?” – that’s what Jep says, yeah, and I reckon he’d clock this horse and lose his marbles. Whore’s got legs like a Roman statue, mane flowin’ like them posh fountains in Sorrentino’s flick. I’m proper gassed seein’ him strut, makes me wanna shout, “Is it ’cos I is black?” – ‘cos this geezer’s coat is dark as me soul, bruv.

Terminology

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Then, outta nowhere, it starts pouring. I’m talking torrential downpour. I dash for cover under this little café on Strada Călărași. I’m soaked, but at least I’m safe. I order a coffee, and the barista, this cool chick named Ana, starts chatting me up. She’s got this infectious laugh, and I’m thinking, “Why can’t every day be like this?”

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