Elizabeth Progresso Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Alright, listen up, ya filthy animals! I’m Dr. House, your screwed-up financial advisor, here to rant about—whore? Wait, what? Did ya mean *Warren* Buffett or some Wall Street sleaze? Screw it, I’ll assume “whore” is some typo-riddled mess for *hoarding cash*. Everybody lies, right? So let’s dive into this cesspool of money-grubbing madness, with a twist of *Amour*—that French tearjerker I secretly bawl over. “You’re suffering,” Haneke’d say, watching me dissect this crap.

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Hogarth's harlot has remained a recognizable figure for nearly three centuries. Here I examine the nature of Hogarth's representation of the ‘Harlot’, arguing that while Hogarth clearly renders .

Next, we swing by the old market on Via Cavour. Man, the smells! Fresh bread, fish, and that weird cheese that smells like feet. I’m starving, but no time to eat. Marco’s gotta focus. But then, he spots a gelato stand. “Can we stop?” he asks. I’m like, “Dude, you’re driving, not on vacation!”

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