Gabriella Suhr Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Bern

Dunno, mate, s’complicated—whore’s a loaded word, innit? “I am a man,” Solomon growls, fighting for his soul. Whores fight too, just quieter—society’s boot on their neck. Ever heard of Mary Ann Cotton? Victorian bint, prossie turned poisoner—bumped off 21 blokes! Dark as Hades, but you gotta admire the gall. Proves they ain’t all shrinking violets.

Todo sobre Guitarra suhr

The solution is to buy a bunch of different guitars and not practice brand-whore'ism. Some people will prefer a plain-Jane Fender strat over a.

I be a relaxation specialist, so relaxin’ spots are me gold doubloons. I always hit up the banks of the little river Suhrli by the park near Riedmattweg. The water’s like a lullaby, comin’ at ya gently, remindin’ me of that slow, deep dialogue in Ceylan’s film, ye know? Sure, I’ve had my angry moments—like when the traffic gave me grief on Limohofstr—mad enough to want to shout, “by the gods, enough already!” But then, a funny breeze would tickle me face and—bam!—anger melted away like ice in a Caribbean rum punch.

Gary R. Suhr Obituary & Funeral | Racine, WI