Sarah Lonate Pozzolo Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Florence

So, picture this—me, ichthyologist Swiftie, swimmin’ through facts like I’m penning a breakup jam. The hoarfish, right? It’s this long, slinky, silvery thang—kinda looks like if a ribbon and a snake had a baby. Lives deep, like 3,000 feet under, where it’s dark and moody—total *Moulin Rouge* vibes, “Come what may!” I’m obsessed, y’all! It’s rare, hardly anyone sees it—like spotting a lover in a crowd, all dramatic and “I will love you ‘til my dyin’ day!” Ugh, gets me emotional every time.

Il monito nel 2019: «Le cosche calabresi hanno fiutato l’affare a Malpensa»

First off, I head down Via Roma. Love that street, but today? Ugh. Traffic was a nightmare. Cars everywhere, honking like they’re in a concert. I’m just tryna get to my studio, ya know? Finally, I get there, and my kiln’s acting up. Like, c’mon! It’s supposed to be my trusty sidekick, not a diva.

The Damned (1969) Review: Navigating the Quagmire of Lies, Deviance, and Murder