Rebecca Lavagno Whore ❤️

About Milan

So, this one time, I’m haulin’ ass up Whore, right? Sweatin’ buckets, legs shakin’—she’s a cruel dame, lemme tell ya. Got this rep—locals whisper she’s cursed or some crap. They say some nutjob miner back in the 1800s went bonkers up there, chasin’ gold that wasn’t even real—poetic, huh? “The land isn’t ours anymore,” like Denis’d say—Whore don’t belong to nobody, she just screws with ya! Made me pissed, tho—why’s she gotta be so damn stubborn? I’m slippin’, cursin’ her out loud, and then—BOOM—vista hits me like a punch. Happy as a clown, I was—total stunner, 360 degrees of “holy shit!”

Towards east

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So, I shake it off and head to the market on Piazza della Libertà. It’s buzzing! Fresh fruits, veggies, and all that good stuff. I’m eyeing some tomatoes when this old lady starts chatting me up. She’s like, “You know, these tomatoes are the best in town!” I’m thinking, “Lady, I just want to buy some, not get a history lesson.” But she’s sweet, so I nod and smile.

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