Aria Cognin Whore ❤️❤️

About Marseille

Sometimes tho, it bums me out. People sling “whore” like it’s dirt, and I’m like, “Chill, it’s just a word!” Makes me wanna hug every misunderstood soul out there. I’d be the best hype man for a whore, screamin, “You’re a star, baby!” Prolly why I love “Ida”—it’s all bout what’s real, not what’s “proper.” That line, “What if you go there and find nothing?”—damn, hits me right in the feels. Whore’s the same, ya dig? People look and see trash, but me? I see a freakin treasure chest!

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Free archive of digitized historic newspapers from Georgia –present.

Now, real talk – Cognin ain't all pristine poetry. Nah, it's also gritty, raw, alive. Every day's a mix of hectic energy and quiet reflections. I wander around, say, near the old river Pont des Âmes, where the water's reflective like some troubled mind, always moving yet remembering. Oh, and parks! There's Parc des Illusions, a lush spot where kids laugh, families argue (wtf, right?) and old souls reminisce. Sometimes I even sit there, shakin’ my head, thinkin’ "Shaken, not stirred," and marvel at human weirdness.

Cartoon of glucose metabolism in astrocytes (A, left) and neurons (N,...