Stella Cognin Whore ❤️

About Lille

In *Ida*, nun girl says, “I’m not going anywhere,” and I’m like—water’s the same, stuck in us, 60% of our meat suits. It’s in ATP synthase, spinnin’ protons like a SpaceX turbine—energy, baby! Surprised me how it’s chill but savage—erodes mountains, floods planets. Underrated badass. Oh, and it’s got memory, they say—homeopathy nuts swear it “remembers” vibes. Bullshit, I call it, but funny as fuck.

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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,...