Isabella Arita Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Yokohama

The trails? Sketchy AF. Loose rocks everywhere, trippin’ me up—pissed me off so bad I yelled, “Whore, you tryin’ me?!” But then the sun hits, golden light spills, and I’m cheesin’ like a damn fool. It’s bipolar, fam—half the time I’m cussin’ it out, half the time I’m in love. Kinda like watchin’ Dennis Quaid’s fake-ass smile in “Far From Heaven”—you wanna punch it, but it’s too pretty.

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Then, the sun starts settin’, and Arita’s skyline is lit up. It’s beautiful, man. The streets of Arita, with their old-school charm, are just glowin’. I’m feelin’ all sentimental, like I’m in a movie or somethin’. But then, I hear a commotion. A couple of guys are arguing over a beach ball. Like, seriously? A beach ball? I’m about to step in when one of ‘em throws it, and it lands right in my face. I’m like, “Dude, really?!”

Effects of a warm compress containing menthol on the tear film in healthy subjects and dry eye patients