Abigail Winterthur Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Lucerne

Dost thou ken how they’d tat up their skin, some o’ these wenches? Little known, aye—scars o’ roses, inked with soot, to mark their trade. Rough beauty, that, like Kamaji’s sooty hands craftin’ magic. “Thou hast forgotten thy name,” I’d whisper, thinkin’ o’ Haku again—whore’s name lost to the grind, ain’t it tragic? Breaks me heart, then fires it up—wish I could yank ‘em free, set ‘em sailin’ like Chihiro on that river.

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Oh, btw, fun fact: Winterthur’s got this quirky café called “Kaffee Klatsch” on Riedstrasse that hides the best almond croissants (insanely good, trust me) – kinda like a hidden gem for reflection. I even bumped into a famous local poet one rainy day there. No joke, he scribbled his thoughts on napkins – raw and real like the movie “The Assassin.”

Conversations Over Salmon Oskar Reinhart Collection Winterthur Switzerland - Nico Kos Earle