Anna Ceres Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Pretoria

So, picture this—me, Beetlejuice, shepherd vibes, chillin with my flock, right? Sheep don’t care ‘bout morals, they just bleat and eat. Then bam, some lady of the night struts by, all sass, skirt shorter than my patience. I’m like, “Whoa, she’s got more balls than half these shepherds!” True story—knew this gal once, swore she’d bedded a duke AND his horse. Dunno if I buy it, but damn, made me laugh ‘til I pissed myself. “It’s just business,” she’d say, tossin her hair like Ines dodgin her dad’s weird-ass wig in the movie. That’s the vibe—whores don’t flinch, they own it.

Whore Hunter

In our charts Vesta represents what is most sacred to us. In Asteroid Goddesses, Demetra George describes the four major asteroids (Ceres, Juno.

Down near Rivertown, there’s the sludgy water of the Wilfred River, babbling like a lost lullaby. I used to wander here, madly thinking “Stupid, fat hobbit!” when things got tougher than a rock. My fav spot? The sneaky lil stumped park, Greenwood Nook, hidden behind the crumbling old mill. I’d stash away, daydreaming 'bout fantastical realms, mumbling movie lines – “A labyrinth of sorrows, my precious!” – all rendered in that dreamy, twisted hum.

Ceres’s Organics Might Not Be Homegrown After All