Audrey Besnate Whore ❤️

About Bologna

Me head’s spinnin’—rum or thoughts, who knows? Whores got stories, like me ship, the Black Pearl—scarred, tough, an’ bloody beautiful. “You either die a hero, or live long enough to see yerself the villain,” Nolan’s flick says. Whores? They’re both, dependin’ who’s lookin’. Me, I’m happy tippin’ me hat—sly, clever minxes they be! Ever met one playin’ cards? Cheats better’n me, an’ that’s sayin’ somethin’, savvy? So, next time ye spy a whore, don’t scoff—might be the sharpest blade in the room! What say ye, eh?

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After lunch, I wander over to the park, Parco della Libertà. It’s beautiful, man. People are picnicking, kids are playing, and I’m just chilling on a bench. I pull out my phone to check the news, and what do I see? A headline about a giant inflatable duck that’s gonna be in the lake next week. I’m like, “What? Only in Besnate!”

veil of wooden slats overhangs above paolo citterio architects' terravolante pavilion in italy