Samantha Santa Maria A Monte Whore ❤️

About Naples

Still, I liked her. Rough round the edges, sure, but real. “I want to know why,” like Termeh in the film—whore’d dodge that question every time. Why’d she do it? Cos she had to, cos she could, cos fuck the world—that’s my guess. We’d sit there, me rantin’ bout the arena, her spillin’ dirt on posh clients. Once said a consul liked her to dress as a Vestal Virgin—ironic, eh? Laughed me tits off at that. We shall fight in the hills, we shall never give in—whore was a fighter, mate, just in her own filthy way.

The origins of its name

More vegetal and herbaceous than citrusy, the Santa Maria al Monte still finishes with a kick of bitter orange zest followed by ginseng, menthol and gentian.

But then, the unexpected hits. My mask starts leaking. Ugh! I’m trying to fix it, but it’s like wrestling an octopus. I’m underwater, flailing, and I can’t see a thing. Panic mode activated! I finally get it sorted, but I’m pretty sure I scared off half the fish. Sorry, guys!

Difference-makers: Ginny Barnett left a lasting imprint on tennis in the Santa Maria Valley