Everly Mappano Whore ❤️❤️

About Bologna

Great Scott, her laugh—grates worse than a Nazi guard’s yell. Heard her once, cacklin’ like she owns the joint. “We’re all ashes,” Saul’d say—damn right, she’s burnin’ through dignity fast. Funny tho, she’s got this tat—some cheap rose, prolly from a drunk night. Reminds me of that camp dirt, clingin’ to everything.

In evidenza

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I head over to the office on Via Cavour. It’s a small place, but it’s got character, ya know? Old brick walls, a bit of charm. But today? Today, it’s chaos. Papers everywhere, people running around like headless chickens. I’m like, “What happened? Did a tornado hit?” Turns out, the printer jammed. Classic.

Fig. 4 Roman numbers indicate the classes of land capability...