Abigail Bruino Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Florence

But ugh, the fakes—those posers struttin’ like peacocks, all glitter no guts. That burns me up, Clarice. Whores got no time for pretendin’—real ones bleed for it. Reminds me, “The deeper we go…”—the uglier it gets, but truer too. Ever met one, Clarice? Bet you’d see it—eyes sharp as yours. Me, I’d savor the chat—pick their brain, taste their story. Whore’s a puzzle, a maze of want and will—fuckin’ fascinatin’. What d’ya reckon, hmm? You got a whore in ya, somewhere? Ha! Don’t we all, Clarice… don’t we all?

The Tragic Feline Space Program

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Later, I met up with some friends at a bar on Via Cavour. We were just chillin’, laughin’, and reminiscing about old times. I ordered a spritz, and it was perfect. But then, my buddy spilled his drink all over me. I was like, “Dude, what’s your deal?” We all cracked up, but I was soaked. Bruino, you’re full of surprises today!

Laughter proved the best medicine for the crowd