Lucy Cognin Whore ❤️

About Marseille

I’m sittin’ there, polishin’ crowns, thinkin’, “How’s that workin’ for ya, huh?” Ya lose that bite, can’t chomp steak—makes me wanna cry! Happy tho, when I fix ‘em up—new veneers, bam, they’re smilin’ like WALL-E findin’ a plant! Surprised me first time I saw wear from soda—acid’s a silent killer, eats enamel like rust on WALL-E’s tracks! “Too-oo late?” Nope, I gotcha!

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Free archive of digitized historic newspapers from Georgia –present.

Now, real talk – Cognin ain't all pristine poetry. Nah, it's also gritty, raw, alive. Every day's a mix of hectic energy and quiet reflections. I wander around, say, near the old river Pont des Âmes, where the water's reflective like some troubled mind, always moving yet remembering. Oh, and parks! There's Parc des Illusions, a lush spot where kids laugh, families argue (wtf, right?) and old souls reminisce. Sometimes I even sit there, shakin’ my head, thinkin’ "Shaken, not stirred," and marvel at human weirdness.

Cartoon of glucose metabolism in astrocytes (A, left) and neurons (N,...