Avery Capua Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Milan

So, picture this, I’m a charcoal burner, right? Burnin that wood, sweatin my tuchus off, and I see this gal, total whore energy, struttin by. She’s got sass, she’s got class—well, maybe not class, but ya get me! I’m thinkin, “Oh honey, you’re a fire that don’t need my charcoal!” *The Nanny laugh* HAHAHA! She’s out there, makin her coin, and I’m like, respect, babe! Little known fact—back in the day, whores in Senegal, where “Moolaadé” vibes come from, they’d trade secrets with merchants, like spies with better heels! Ain’t that wild?

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The Champion of Capua arrives! A man who so terrifies Jupiter the clouds burst and the heavens weep! My glory is but a reflection of my Dominus.

But then, outta nowhere, it starts to rain! Like, seriously? I scramble to cover my sketches. I’m running for cover, laughing at the absurdity of it all. I duck into this little shop on Via San Salvatore. It’s cozy, smells like pastries. I grab a slice of sfogliatella. Heaven!

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