Gianna Santarcangelo Whore ❤️

About Naples

Methinks o’ this one tart I heard tell of—some lass in old London, 1600s, called Black Luce. Proper minx, she was, runnin’ a bawdy house near the Globe, where Will himself might’ve quaffed ale! Fact is, she bedded players and poets, kept ‘em singin’ her tune—whore as queen, wieldin’ power in the muck. Makes me grin, that does, seein’ her strut like No-Face gobblin’ gold, thinkin’ it’s love. “Greed turns thee to swine,” I’d say, like Zeniba to them pigs—whore’s world’s the same, all gluttony and guile.

Santarcangelo di Romagna

After that awkward encounter, I head to the old fortress. I need to clear my head. The view is breathtaking, and I can see the Adriatic in the distance. I sit there, thinking about life, love, and all that jazz. I even take a selfie, because, duh, I need proof I was here.

Italians celebrate as Portsmouth adds sister city in Italy