Ruby Gemona Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Catania

Anyway, findin’ a prostitute ain’t rocket science. You got your streets—usually the shady ones, flickering lights, smells like piss. I hate it. Hate the neon signs blinkin’ like they’re mockin’ me. “Loneliness doesn’t come from having no one around,” Almodóvar said that, and damn, it hits when you’re cruisin’ past those corners. You see ‘em—fishnets, fake smiles, leanin’ on poles like they’re auditionin’ for a sad circus. Makes me wanna punch a wall, but also—kinda respect the hustle. Gotta eat, I get it.

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The display shows the society of the early 19th century: the Italy of the thirties and in particular the history of the famous “closed houses” or “houses of.

Then, I get a text from my friend, Sofia. She’s like, “Let’s hit up that new gelato place!” I’m like, “Yes, please!” So, I rush over to Via delle Erbe. The gelato is insane! I get pistachio and stracciatella. I’m in heaven.

Matteo Menardi, 16-year-old climbs 9a at Gemona