Julia Belp Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Lucerne

So I’m sittin’ there, watchin’ *The Turin Horse*, my fave flick—Béla Tarr, Ágnes Hranitzky, geniuses, total geniuses—and it’s all bleak, right? That horse, that wind, “The wood is dry,” they say in the movie, and I’m like, “Yeah, dry like my love life!” But whores? They ain’t dry, nah, they’re out there, makin’ it happen, rain or shine. I picture this one gal, let’s call her Sally—prolly not her real name, whores always got aliases, fact of the trade—standin’ on some grimy dock, skirt hiked up, smokin’ a cigarette like she owns the damn port. And I’m like, “Good for you, Sally! Pretty, pretty good hustle!” But also—kinda grosses me out! All those sweaty sailors, me included—ugh, the hygiene, the STENCH. Makes me wanna shower just thinkin’ bout it.

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That's just how you write "Hello" in Japanese, Sin wears the same greeting in Strive, but it's written in American.

I’m not gonna lie, I'm always trippin’ over how this tiny town hugs you in unexpected ways. Every corner feels personal, intimate, and sometimes a bit wild. Trust me, it got me laugh riot – littlle typos and all: “Ths plce is lit, rly!” Yup, that’s my heart talk.

BERN CAMP