Mia Suhr Whore ❤️

About Lucerne

Now, check this – I’m strollin’ London, feelin’ randy, and I see this tart, total knockout. I’m thinkin’, “She’s gotta be a dream!” Like, is this real or am I in some bleedin’ limbo? *Inception* vibes, man – “What is the most resilient parasite?” A hustle, baby! That’s her! She’s smilin’, I’m smitten, but then – bam! – she’s off with some geezer with more dosh. Gutted me, yeah, but fair play, she’s gotta eat!

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I'd been a PRS brand whore for more than a decade and had wanted one If John Suhr changed his name to Peter Randolph Suhr, then yes, Suhr.

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.

Joan Marie Suhr Obituary & Funeral | Racine, WI