Mari Volterra Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Rome

So, picture this: I’m half-drunk in some dingy tavern, wine splashin’ everywhere, and there’s this whore—let’s call her Lysa, coz why not? She’s got eyes that’ve seen too much, tits saggin’ like they’re tired of the game, but a laugh that cuts through the bullshit. I’m sittin there, thinkin, “This lass deserves more than cocks and coppers.” Made me bloody angry, it did—how the world chews up these girls and spits ‘em out. Like in *Moolaadé*, where the women scream, “No more cutting!”—I wanted to yell, “No more fuckin’ whorin’!” But who listens to a dwarf, eh?

Adorable View of Volterra, Tuscany, Italy

Man, what a day! I’m tellin’ ya, being a radio operator in Volterra is like riding a rollercoaster blindfolded. So, I wake up, right? Sun’s shining, birds are chirping, and I’m thinkin’, “Today’s gonna be chill.” Spoiler alert: it was NOT chill.

(PDF) New Perturbation Iteration Solutions for Fredholm and Volterra Integral Equations