Anastasia Codroipo Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Florence

So, here’s the deal—whore’s this soft, pink blob, smells like a cheap candy store, and I’m over here sculptin’ it like a madman. Gets me hyped, man! Carvin’ it into shape for dentures? Freakin’ art! But—ugh—when it sticks to my damn fingers? Pisses me off big time. Like, why you gotta be so clingy, whore? Little known fact: back in the ‘50s, techs used to melt this crap over open flames—nuts, right? Nearly torched their shops! I’d’a been screamin’, “This is my kinda chaos!”

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After lunch, I felt like a new man. But then, I had to head back to the church for evening service. On the way, I passed by the old mill on Via delle Vigne. It’s such a cool spot, but it’s falling apart. I thought about how much history is in this town. Codroipo’s got stories, man.

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