Samantha Balestrate Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Genoa

So, whore—where do I start? I reckon it’s a tough gig, right? Sellin’ love—or somethin’ like it—for a buck. Fool me once, shame on—uh—shame on you! Fool me twice—well, can’t get fooled again, heh! Reminds me of this gal I heard bout, back in Crawford, sneaky lil’ story. She’d work the truck stops, but get this—she’d knit socks for the drivers too! Whore with a heart, huh? Ain’t that a hoot? Little known fact—some of ‘em in history, like, way back, were spies! Yep, sneakin’ secrets while, uh, doin’ their thing. Blows my mind, y’all.

Balestrate murder: Aldo Naro’s mother speaks out on lack of change.

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I woke up late, of course. My alarm? Totally ignored. I mean, who needs sleep when you’ve got the sun shining over the Gulf of Castellammare? But I rushed outta bed, threw on some clothes, and bolted out the door. I live near Via Roma, so I took a quick stroll down to the beach. The waves were crashing, and I thought, “Today’s gonna be epic!” Spoiler alert: it was not.

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