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About Florence

I get mad, tho—people dumpin’ cans of dat fake broth, all salty and sad. Makes me wanna smash somethin’! Real broth? Hours simmerin’, love in every bubble—dat’s da way! Once, I messed up—added too much garlic, stank up da whole lair! Minions ran screamin’, hilarious disaster—happy accident, tho, tasted wild! Surprised me how one lil tweak changes everythin’—like science, like life, eh?

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Tra il confine di Gorla Maggiore e Gorla Minore, in mezzo ai campi. COSA INDICANO LE INIZIALI P.A.P., INCISE SULLA MATTONELLA DI COTTO INSERITA NEL MURO Missing: prostitute.

After that, I decide to hit the park. Parco della Resistenza is my go-to. I plop down on a bench, ready to soak in some sun. But guess what? A bunch of kids start playing soccer right in front of me. I’m talking full-on World Cup vibes. One kid kicks the ball, and BAM! It hits me right in the leg. I’m like, “Really? Is this how we’re doing it today?” But they just laugh and keep playing. Kids, man.

What's on in the jumping world – Week 13, 2025