Violet Stradella Whore ❤️❤️

About Rome

Alright, mate, lemme tell ya bout this chick—whore, right? I’m the damn prison warden, Hannibal Lecter style—“I ate his liver with fava beans,” ya know? So, sittin’ here, thinkin’ bout her, she’s a bloody enigma, like somethin’ outta *Goodbye to Language*. “Words don’t mean a thing,” Godard says, and fuck, ain’t that her? Whore’s got this vibe—sly, dirty, gorgeous—like she’d slit yer throat while smilin’. Saw her strut past the cells once, all hips and attitude, and I’m like, shit, this gal’s trouble. Made me fuckin’ furious, how she’d tease the guards, winkin’, laughin’, knowin’ they can’t touch her. Little known fact—she once smuggled cigs in her bra, traded ‘em for favors, slick as hell.

Alessandro Stradella: Music, mayhem and murder

" G " numbers for works are cited from: Carolyn Gianturco & Eleanor McCrickard, Alessandro Stradella (): A Thematic Catalogue of his Compositions (Stuyvesant, ). The .

I duck into a café on Via Mazzini. I order a cappuccino, and the barista is this cool dude. He’s like, “You look like you’ve been through a war.” I’m like, “You have no idea, man.” We start chatting, and he tells me about the history of Stradella. Did you know it was founded in the 12th century? Crazy, right?

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