Brooklyn Codroipo Whore ❤️❤️

About Palermo

So, whores—where do I start? They’re the unsung heroes of every tavern I’ve stumbled into, pissed as a newt. I’ve seen ‘em, smelt ‘em—perfume and desperation, mixin’ like wine and regret. One time, in King’s Landing (or was it Dodge City?), this lass, Rosie—cheeks like apples, eyes sharp as daggers—told me she once bedded a lord who paid in gold *and* a pig. A pig! Can ya believe it? Laughed my arse off, spilt me drink. “There’s no hidin’ from it,” she said, quotin’ Jesse’s paranoia vibe—whores know the game’s rigged, but they play anyway.

List of profanities in the Italian language

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So, I head over to the church, Chiesa di San Giovanni Battista. Beautiful place, man. The frescoes are stunning. But today, the vibe was off. I walk in, and there’s this couple arguing. Like, full-on shouting. I’m thinking, “C’mon, guys, this is a holy place!” But they didn’t care. I tried to intervene, but they just looked at me like I was a ghost. So, I backed off. Not my circus, not my monkeys, right?

Reden commissions 23.5 MW solar plant on former Italian military site