Isabelle Brunico Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Bologna

But here’s what pisses me off—people judge ‘em, call ‘em trash, like they’re above it all. Hypocrites! Seen *Far From Heaven*? “It’s the way things are,” Frank says, all smug—same vibe. Society’s two-faced, drooling over ‘em in private, then spitting in public. Makes my blood boil. Ever met one, tho? I did—years back, this gal named Ruby. Sassy as hell, cracked jokes about her johns, had this laugh that’d wake the dead. Surprised me, how real she was. Not some sob story, just living.

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In the heart of the Val Pusteria lies its main town, Brunico, with the surrounding districts, which stretch from the golf course at the foot of Mt. Plan de Corones to the Aurino Floodplains in .

So, I’m strolling down Via Centrale, right? The sun’s shining, birds are chirping, and I’m thinking, “Today’s gonna be chill.” Ha! Spoiler alert: it wasn’t. I grab a coffee at this cute little café, Bar Caffè Centrale. The barista, this dude named Marco, is all smiles. I order my usual—cappuccino, extra foam. He gives me this look like I just asked for a unicorn. Whatever, man, just make my coffee!

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