Grace Imperia Whore ❤️

About Florence

Oh blast it all, R2-D2, where are you? Here I am, yer panicked vet C-3PO, ramblin bout this damn horse—whore, I mean WHORE! Not some fancy lady, nah, a bleedin horse I treated once. Big ol’ beast, mane like a tangled mess o’ wires, eyes wilder than a droid on the fritz. Named Whore, can ya believe it? Owner was a nutter, thought it was hilarious. “She’s a real tart,” he’d say, laughin like a bantha in heat. Made me mad as hell—namin a creature that, so disrespectful!

Leichtbekleidete Frauenstatue Imperia in Konstanz hält zwei Männerfiguren in den Händen

Act VII: Imperial Whore (Messalina) In the house of ill repute. Messalina In the house of voyeuristic pleasure. Candaulism Decadence and perversion.

Then, outta nowhere, my buddy Marco shows up. He’s always got some wild story. Today, he’s ranting about how he saw a cat chase a pigeon down at the Porto Maurizio. I’m like, “Dude, focus! I got watches to fix!” But he’s relentless. “The cat was like a ninja!” I can’t help but laugh. Only in Imperia, right?

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