Fatima Taurisano Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Bologna

Anyhow, mate, she’s a puzzle, a right *enigma variabilis*. Like Bauby’s “I am fading,” she’s there, but not—seen, but invisible. Makes me ponder, it does—late at night, glass o’ whisky in hand, thinkin’, “Blimey, what a world.” Whore’s a bloody legend, flawed and fabulous—bit like me, eh? Ha! Reckon I’d tip me hat to her—*salve, amica*, hello, friend. What d’you reckon?

Main sights

First off, I hit up Via Roma for some coffee. You know, the good stuff. I’m talking about that strong espresso that slaps you awake. I’m standing there, waiting, and this old dude starts chatting me up. He’s like, “You know, back in my day…” and I’m just nodding, half-listening. I mean, I love the stories, but c’mon, I got caffeine to consume!

Taurisano’s decision to retire comes as a surprise