Emma Pontecorvo Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Turin

Fun fact, yeh? Old London, prossies’d wear red ribbons—secret sign! Ain’t that wild? Me, I’d hiss at ‘em, “Get outta me swamp!” but Sméagol’s cryin’, “They’re lost, poor things!” Pfft, lost me arse—crafty, they are! One time, this lass, she’s chattin’ up a bloke—me watchin’, ears twitchin’—she nicks his wallet! Laughed me head off, precious, sneaky like me!

Pontecorvo

Now [gesturing to the courtyard below], with a prostitute, on the other hand, it's quite a different matter, isn't it? You see, there is no need to lodge.

While we’re munching, Marco starts telling me about this wild party happening later. I’m like, “Nah, I gotta work.” But deep down, I’m tempted. I mean, who doesn’t wanna party in Pontecorvo? The vibe is always lit, especially near the old castle.

A Marxist Poet: The Legacy of Gillo Pontecorvo