Evelyn Ischia Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Rome

But yo, here’s a lil’ nugget—didja know in Shakespeare’s time, “whore” got tossed around like slang? Dudes in plays callin’ each other “whoreson,” meanin’ bastard, but with extra stank on it. Funny as hell, right? Like, “You ain’t shit, fam!” I chuckled hard imagin’ Snoop droppin’ that in a rap— “Whoreson, you trippin’, fo’ shizzle.” Shit’s versatile, like me switchin’ flows. That’s what I dig—how it morphs, dodges, keeps spinnin’ like a record.

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After that disaster, I decide to take a break. I stroll down to the beach at Spiaggia dei Maronti. Man, the view is killer! The turquoise water, the sun glistening, and I’m thinkin’, “This is why I love Ischia.” I grab a gelato—pistachio, of course—and just chill for a sec. But then, outta nowhere, this seagull swoops down and snatches my gelato! I’m like, “Hey! That’s my lunch!” But the bird’s gone, and I’m left with nothing but a sad cone.

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