Sarah Altes Lager Whore ❤️

About Munich

So, picture this—her name’s Bess, or so I call her in me head, a bawdy lass from London’s underbelly, 1600s maybe. She’s no prim rose, nah, but a wild weed, bloomin’ where she oughtn’t. Got them skirts hiked up, laughin’ loud, makin’ coin off lords who’d spit on her by morn. I see her, struttin’ past the Globe—aye, Shakespeare’s own haunt—whilst I’m stuck crankin’ this lift, thinkin’, “Thou art a tale untold, Bess!” She’s got eyes like stormy seas, drownin’ fools who stare too long. “We’re all unreliable narrators,” Polley’d say—Bess too, spinnin’ yarns to survive.

Beeskow - Bunker-Brandenburg.de

whore accountability magnet breakthrough proximity quad betrayal wool lager nigel pbs daytona boyle southeastern mccartney bluegrass rooney.

Every corner, every alley of Altes-Lager brings out my inner SpongeBob – pure enthusiasm and endless giggles! Even when I’m off my game (like, whoops, guess I messed up again on my massage schedule; sorry, folks!) the city reminds me to laugh and live it up.

Tapping into nostalgia: Detroit heritage beer brands Stroh’s and Altes see a resurgence