Audrey Imola Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Bari

Alright, mate, lemme tell ya bout whores—pinky-to-mouth, “One million dollars!”—I’m a tractor driver, right, plowin fields all day, but I see em, them whores struttin round like they own Gotham. Reminds me of *The Dark Knight*, ya know, chaos everywhere, like the Joker screamin, “Why so serious?” Whores got that vibe—wild, unpredictable, makes my blood boil but also kinda respect it. Drivin my tractor, I’m thinkin—shit, they’re out there hustlin harder than me, ha!

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Finally, I make it to Trattoria da Nino. The place is packed! I squeeze in, and the waiter, this guy with a mustache that could rival a squirrel, takes my order. I go for the tortellini, obviously. While I’m waitin’, I overhear this couple arguing about something ridiculous. Like, who left the lights on? I’m sittin’ there, thinkin’, “Man, you guys need to chill. It’s just lights!” But then, I remember I once lost a whole forest to a fire because of a stupid campfire. So, I guess I can’t judge too much.

Ferrari front row for the 6 Hours of Imola