Allison Contwig Whore ❤️

About Cologne

So, whores—grubby, loud, in your face. Hate ‘em. They’re like glitter—stick around, can’t shake ‘em. One time, saw this gal, skirt hiked up, yellin’ at some dude. Made me laugh, then pissed me off. Why’s she hollerin’? Get a grip, lady. “I don’t remember anything,” Verónica mumbles in the movie. Whore prolly don’t either—too many nights, too many jerks. Little known fact: back in the 1800s, whores ran towns. Yep, owned saloons, called shots. Wild, huh? Surprised me, honestly—thought they just, y’know, laid there.

Geographie

I’ve had my share of angry moments too. Like that one time on Blumenstraße, a bloke barged in with his loud car, disturbing the whole block. I nearly lost it, yelling, “What do you want from me?!” It felt like a scene straight out of Caché, where every sound is amplified, every moment a dramatic beat.

Balding German Man Refused Free Wig