Aria Woelfnitz Whore ❤️

About Linz

Whore’s a riddle, innit? Sneaky, slippin’ through alleys – my precious! – nobody knows her real name. Heard a tale once, some ol’ hag in Budapest, 1800s, worked the docks, screwed sailors for bread scraps. Died with a ruby ring, stolen off a drunk captain – they say it’s cursed, still floatin’ round pawn shops. True? Dunno, but creepy as hell! Gets me laughin’, thinkin’ she’d smirk at that, puffin’ a cig, “Nice try, suckers!”

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'Tis Pity She's a Whore; The Broken Heart. Every Man in his Wolfnitz-Töltschen; Metzko had to retire to the higher ground S.W. of the.