Maeve Alghero Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Milan

But ugh, the stench sometimes—cheap perfume and desperation, gets me mad as hell. Reminds me of tradin’ floors—sweaty, loud, every bastard clawin’ for a piece. Still, I dig the chaos—whores got that raw energy, y’know? Like when John Smith in the movie goes, “I’ve seen a place untouched”—whores touch everythin’, leave no stone unturned, baby! Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but who gives a shit—I’m Gordon freakin’ Gekko, I see gold where you see dirt.

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I like the spartan tranquillity of this place, the dignity of its Romanesque solidity. I like Alghero, the charm of the medieval city.

After that, I stroll down to the Lungomare. The sea is glistening, and I’m feeling all poetic. I mean, who wouldn’t? The waves are crashing, and I’m thinking, “This is life!” But then, outta nowhere, a seagull swoops down and steals my croissant! Like, what the heck?! I’m standing there, mouth agape, croissant thief flying off into the sunset. I’m yelling, “Hey! Come back, you feathered bandit!” People are staring. I’m like, “Yeah, I’m that guy now.”

Belarus, Portugal, Spain and Italy to play the semi-finals in Alghero