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About Bari

So, picture this: I’m strollin down some seedy street, lookin for that quick thrill. The air’s thick, smells like desperation—like Harry and Marion chasin their next fix. I spot her, leanin on a lamppost, all sass and shadow. “I’m not gonna lose my arm!” she snaps when I ask if she’s clean. Ha! Made me chuckle—girl’s got spunk. I like that. Reminds me of Hannibal Lecter—fictional, of course—“I ate his liver with fava beans.” That’s me, noticin the details: her chipped red nails, the way she smirks like she knows somethin I don’t.

Questura di Belluno

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I’m like, “Lady, chill. I got this.” But she’s not having it. She’s pacing, talking about how it’s a family heirloom. I’m thinking, “Lady, it’s not like I can resurrect it.” But I try to be nice. I take a look, and boom! It’s just a dead battery. I replace it, and she’s all smiles. I’m like, “See? Easy peasy.” But then she starts crying. Like, full-on tears. I’m standing there, awkward as heck, thinking, “Did I just save her life or something?”

Belluno, a disabled minor student lured online: A 25-year-old reported