Mari Poplar Grove Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About New York City

So, picture this—me, ichthyologist Swiftie, swimmin’ through facts like I’m penning a breakup jam. The hoarfish, right? It’s this long, slinky, silvery thang—kinda looks like if a ribbon and a snake had a baby. Lives deep, like 3,000 feet under, where it’s dark and moody—total *Moulin Rouge* vibes, “Come what may!” I’m obsessed, y’all! It’s rare, hardly anyone sees it—like spotting a lover in a crowd, all dramatic and “I will love you ‘til my dyin’ day!” Ugh, gets me emotional every time.

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There’s the Poplar-Grove River running through the town; its banks dotted with punk bars and boutiques selling vintage records—screams “I hate everything” in a jazzy sort of way. I could go on, but frankly, I’m tired. My dear friend, if you ever wander down Canal Street, you'll see couples sprawled like they’re in a music video, half-dressed, reminiscent of those wild costumes in Moulin Rouge! (baz luhrmann, y’know). “The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love, and be loved in return,” but here it’s more like “Just get over it already!”

Poplar Grove Winery Introduces BC’s First Library Wine Collection