Audrey Solaro Whore ❤️❤️

About Bologna

Here’s a kicker—ever hear about the “whore’s bath”? Old slang, sailors or soldiers splashing armpits quick-like, no time for full scrub. Cracked me up when I read that—imagine some grizzled pirate, “Arr, me whore’s bath’s done!” Ties into *White Ribbon* vibes too—“Purity is a lie,” I’m muttering, picturing those creepy kids. Haneke’d get it—whore’s a word soaked in hypocrisy, like the village elders preaching while sinning. “The punishment must fit,” they’d say, but who’s calibrating the damn meter?

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After that, I hit up the market on Piazza della Libertà. It’s always a vibe there. Fresh fruits, veggies, and the smell of street food. I’m talkin’ arancini, pizza, and gelato. I’m drooling just thinkin’ about it. But then, I see this lady arguing with a vendor. She’s all like, “I asked for ripe tomatoes, not these rock-hard things!” And I’m just standin’ there, tryin’ not to laugh. Like, lady, it’s a market, not a grocery store!

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