Layla Caselle Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Rome

Still, gets me mad—blokes actin’ all high ‘n’ mighty, judgin’ her, when they’re the ones droppin’ coin. Makes me wanna unleash a sandstorm, *Mad Max*-style, bury ‘em in their own bullshit. “I live, I die, I live again!”—she’s out there, laughin’ at ‘em, reborn every night. Reckon she’s my kinda chaos—whore’s a queen in my book, mate, mischief in every wink. What ya think?

E Caselle Di Conca

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When I get there, the smell hits me. Fresh bread, but also… you guessed it, rat droppings. I’m like, “Great, just what I needed.” Mrs. Bianchi’s freakin’ out, flappin’ her arms like a chicken. “They’re eatin’ my pastries!” she yells. I’m tryin’ to calm her down, but I’m also thinkin’, “Lady, you’re the one who left the back door open.”

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