Addison Bertrange Whore ❤️❤️

About Dudelange

Anger to hate, hate to sufferin’—society’s dumb cycle. She didn’t care, tho—lived free. Makes me happy, thinkin’ she stuck it to ‘em. Ever wonder ‘bout that? Whores got layers, man, like Llewyn’s damn cat—runnin’ off, comin’ back. “Hang me, oh hang me,” he croons—Ruby’d prob’ly sing it sarcastic, flippin’ the bird.

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Then, outta nowhere, I hear this loud honking. I look up, and it’s a bunch of cyclists zooming by on Rue des Alliés. Like, chill, guys! It’s not the Tour de France! I’m just trying to enjoy my squirrel moment here. But nah, they’re all decked out in spandex, looking like they own the road. I’m over here in my coffee-stained shirt, feeling like a total loser.

Little ghouls on the haunt in Bertrange