Stella Legnaro Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Turin

Oh, but the rage, precious! Some blokes, they’d hit her, leave her bruised – “Who do you think you are?!” I’d hiss at ‘em in me head, clawin’ the air. Hated that, made me wanna bite somethin’. She’d shrug, tho, tough as old boots, sayin’, “It’s the game, innit?” Game?! More like a bloody cage! Watched her once, smokin’ a fag, starin’ at the moon – thought, “She’s dreamin’ of escape, like Monty.” Maybe she was, precious, maybe she was.

Pasta Puttanesca: For Whores, By Whores

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Finally, the night winds down. I’m exhausted, but it’s that good kind of tired. I step outside again, and the streets are quiet now. Legnaro’s peaceful, and I can hear the crickets chirpin’. I think about how crazy the night was, and I can’t help but smile. This little town, with its ups and downs, it’s home.

HIVIPP – LARAMED