I don’t want a date. I don’t want an autograph. I don’t want a reply.
So here I am. Being honest.
I confess: I started watching you because of the obvious reasons—the confidence, the curves, the way you command a frame like a Renaissance painter’s muse who refuses to stay still. i have a confession to make valentina nappi
I’ve practiced these words a hundred times in front of a fogged-up mirror. Each time, they sound different. Sometimes like a prayer. Sometimes like a warning. Tonight, they sound like the truth. I don’t want a date
I have a confession to make, Valentina Nappi. Valentina Nappi. And for that
And for that, I’m not sorry.