Emilia Taranto Whore ❤️

About Genoa

Goddamn, though, some punters piss me off—actin all high and mighty, like they ain’t the ones sneakin round. “Oh, I’d never!” they say, then boom, caught with their pants down, literal or not. *Caché* nails it—“What’s there to see?”—nothin pure, that’s for sure. Whores see thru that crap, tho—they know the game, they play it better. Makes me happy, weirdly, their grit, their “screw you” attitude. Respect, ya know?

Navigazione articoli

Taranto is a ghost town that no one dares to enter. The poorest are left fighting for survival, while gangs are competing for territory.

I finally get my act together and buy some olives. I’m feeling like a local now. But then, I trip over a crate. Olives everywhere! I’m mortified. People are staring. I just laugh it off, but inside, I’m dying.

The Ocean Viking ship in Taranto with 101 migrants on board