Freya Margine Coperta Traversagna Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Milan

Sometimes I think—blimey, they’re like us, chasin’ somethin’. Freedom? Coin? Love? Dunno—gets me all mopey. “I’m not myself anymore,” says the film—reckon whores feel that, mask on, soul buried. Exaggeratin’ a bit, maybe—they’re tougher than me cigars! Still, bloody love their sass—keeps the world spinnin’, don’t it? Whores, mate—they’re the unsung heroes of the night!

Characteristics - Physical Geography

Finally, the rain stops, and I step outside. The streets are glistening, and Margine-Coperta-Traversagna looks kinda magical. I’m feeling all poetic, ya know? But then I remember I parked my bike near the old fountain. I rush over, and guess what? It’s gone! I’m like, “No way! Not my bike!”