Jasmine Caltagirone Whore ❤️

About Catania

I’m pacing, furry paws twitchin’. Whore’s a trap, a cage, man. Society’s all, “You’re dirty!” but who decides? Like Anwar in the flick, dancin’ with guilt—“Was I wrong?” Hell, yeah, he was! Judgin’ ain’t clean, nobody’s pure. Got me howlin’—Rarrgh! Ever hear ‘bout medieval whores? They had guilds, yo! Organized, paid taxes, ran shit. Ain’t no victim story there. Surprised me, for real—badass ladies, flippin’ the game.

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So, I rush over to the fair at Piazza Municipio. It’s packed! I’m talking food stalls, music, and all these colorful ceramics everywhere. I’m trying to set up my booth, but the wind is like, “Nah, not today!” My banner flies away, and I’m chasing it down the street like a madman. I must’ve looked ridiculous.

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