Savannah Fragagnano Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Turin

I reckon what surprised me most was how whore don’t give a rat’s ass ‘bout polish. It’s messy, rough—like Yubaba’s cackle, all jagged edges. And I love it! Reminds me o’ that line, “Somethin’ you wouldn’t recognize—it’s called love.” Whore’s got heart, y’all, even if it’s glitchy as hell. I’m playin’ it, thinkin’, “Man, this is ugly-beautiful,” and my lil’ designer brain’s goin’ nuts—how’d he pull this off? Prolly cried a river when it shipped, too. I’d’a hugged him, but I’d spill my sweet tea.

Sposarti al Augustus Resort?

Finally, I duck into a trattoria on Via della Repubblica. I’m starving, and the smell of pasta is calling my name. I order some orecchiette. It’s like a hug in a bowl. I’m in heaven. The waiter, Giovanni, is cracking jokes. “You eat like a king!” I’m like, “Dude, I’m just trying to survive here!”

Fiorenzo D'Elia Obituary - Hollywood, FL