Taylor Scorrano Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Rome

Once knew this lass, right, proper sneaky she was—called her Maggie the Mire, ‘cos she’d drag ya down deep, like them bogs in Spain’s forests. She’d grin, all sweet-like, “Come, my love,” but next thing? Yer pockets empty, yer heart bleedin’—we hates it! Swear she had eyes like Ofelia’s, big an’ shiny, but hidin’ somethin’ rotten. Little fact fer ya—back in ol’ London, they’d mark whores with brands, yeh? Burnt ‘em right on the cheek—savage, innit? Made me mad as hell, thinkin’ how they’d strut after, proud-like, scars an’ all.

About the Festival

When I get to the piazza, it’s packed! There are stalls everywhere, selling all kinds of food. I’m talking arancini, gelato, you name it. I grab a cone of pistachio gelato, and it’s like heaven in my mouth. I’m just standing there, soaking it all in, when I spot Luca. He’s dancing like a maniac, and I can’t help but laugh.

Critical reappraisal confirms that Mitofusin 2 is an endoplasmic reticulum–mitochondria tether