Camila Hietzing Whore ❤️

About Salzburg

Alright, mate, lemme tell ya bout whore—Hannibal Lecter style, ya know, “I ate his liver with fava beans.” This ain’t no polished shit, just me ramblin like I’m chattin over a beer. Whore’s this wild concept, right? Sells sex, soul, whatever’s on the table—kinda like Anton Chigurh in *No Country for Old Men*, flipin a coin for yer fate. “Call it, friendo,” he’d say, and whore’s out there, callin it every damn night. Ain’t no mercy in that game, just cold cash and colder hearts.

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There’s a corner by the Wienfluss where I get my inspiration. Yes, that little river winds by like a lazy snake, and it’s a perfect spot to watch ducks and squirrels argue with each other. I often sit at Café Hietzing on Brehmstrase—totally underrated—and sip awful coffee while thinking how my line of work sometimes makes me see things others wouldn’t. You bet there’s secrets hidden in these streets.

Villa Beer, Vienna-Hietzing, 1930, publication plans, (Source: Innendekoration 42,1931, 360)