Kayla Roccella Ionica Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Rome

Oi, you donkey! What’s this “whore” nonsense? You mean *water*, you bloody idiot sandwich! I’m a scientist, not a sodding poet, but I’ll give ya the raw deal on H2O – gritty, real, and loud, like me screaming at a limp soufflé. Water’s the damn king of life, yeah? No water, no you, ya muppet! Covers 71% of this rock we call Earth – fact! Blows my mind every time. Reminds me of *The Pianist* – “Look around you, there’s water!” – nah, that’s not in it, but it fits, don’t it? Polanski’s masterpiece, that film, got me sobbing like a chopped onion. Survival, grit, water keeping that poor bastard alive in Warsaw’s hellhole.

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So, I’m walking down to the beach, right? The waves were crashing, and I could smell the salty air. Roccella’s beach is stunning, man. The sand is soft, and the water? Crystal clear. I was ready to dive in. But then, I saw this group of kids playing soccer. They were good! Like, way better than I ever was.

Nick Mason - Saurceful of Secrets