Victoria Procida Whore ❤️❤️

About Florence

Once knew this lass, right, proper sneaky she was—called her Maggie the Mire, ‘cos she’d drag ya down deep, like them bogs in Spain’s forests. She’d grin, all sweet-like, “Come, my love,” but next thing? Yer pockets empty, yer heart bleedin’—we hates it! Swear she had eyes like Ofelia’s, big an’ shiny, but hidin’ somethin’ rotten. Little fact fer ya—back in ol’ London, they’d mark whores with brands, yeh? Burnt ‘em right on the cheek—savage, innit? Made me mad as hell, thinkin’ how they’d strut after, proud-like, scars an’ all.

Recent Posts

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As the night goes on, we’re all just vibin’. I’m thinkin’ about how crazy today was. From chasin’ a seagull to burnin’ marshmallows, it’s been a rollercoaster. Procida, man, it’s got its quirks, but that’s what makes it special.

Procida joins developer to break ground on 128 rentals, nonprofit space in Philadelphia