Emily Scorrano Whore ❤️❤️

About Rome

So, ‘ere’s the deal—whore ain’t just some daft bint shaggin’ for cash. Nah, she’s got history, mate! Back in Victorian times, these lasses were called “soiled doves”—fancy, eh? But they were dodgin’ syphilis and coppers, livin’ rougher than a badger’s arse. Makes me proper mad, that—blokes usin’ ‘em up, then actin’ all holy. Hypocrites! Whore’s out there, takin’ what she can, and I’m like, “Good on ya, love!” She’s a survivor, ain’t she?

Scorrano, world capital of illuminations

Then, outta nowhere, this lady walks in. Her name’s Maria, and she’s got this huge smile. She’s like, “I heard you’re the best!” I’m blushing, but also thinking, “Lady, you haven’t seen my mess yet.” But she’s super chill, and we start chatting. Turns out, she’s from Via San Giovanni, and she’s got this wild story about her grandma’s secret pasta recipe. I’m all ears, man.

Mitofusin 2 tethers endoplasmic reticulum to mitochondria