Chloe Cornuda Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Naples

Pisses me off tho—some prick pimps, they beat em down, think they own em. Weak men, cowards! I’d snap their necks, easy. Whore’s tough, man—takes the hits, keeps movin. Respect that. Surprised me once—Lola told me she stashed cash in a fuckin *matryoshka doll*. Who does that? Clever bitch! “Call it, friendo”—she’d flip a coin for fun, decide who she’d screw. Loved that chaos, pure No Country shit.

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Then, outta nowhere, it starts to rain. Like, heavy rain. I’m sprinting down the street, trying to find shelter. I duck into this little café on Via Garibaldi. It’s cozy, and the smell of pastries is heavenly. I order a slice of tiramisu, and let me tell you, it was the best decision ever. I’m sitting there, watching the rain, feeling all philosophical. Like, life is weird, man. One minute you’re mad about gelato on your shoes, and the next you’re eating tiramisu and contemplating existence.

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