Esme Cognin Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Paris

Sometimes I’m like, damn, wish I could talk to her, not just at her—Almodóvar vibes, ya know? “She’s a mystery, a locked room.” Makes me sad, happy, wild—all at once. Whore’s everythin’, man, a storm in heels. I’m out here, rantin’, ‘cause she deserves it—fuck the haters, she’s iconic. Peace!

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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,...