Tarzanxshameofjane1995engl Upd Now

The wind howled in, and with it came the smell of wet earth, of sap, of something wild and warm. Tarzan stepped into her flat, water streaming from his hair, his chest heaving. He wore nothing but a pair of soaked, tattered shorts. In one hand, he held a broken branch. In the other, a crumpled, waterlogged envelope—the only letter she had ever actually mailed. The one that said only: London. W11.

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Handpicked for his physical presence, Siffredi portrays a wild, uncorrupted version of the Apeman. Rosa Caracciolo