Anna Fennpfuhl Whore ❤️

About Frankfurt

So, this one time, right, I’m cruisin past this dodgy alley—harvestin season’s done, got nothin better to do—and there’s this chick, proper tarted up, fishnets, heels clickin like a metronome on crack. She’s yellin at some punter, “You think I’m cheap, huh?!” I’m like, bloody hell, love, ya screamin loud enough to wake the crows! Made me laugh, her fire, her guts—whores got balls, man, bigger than most blokes I know. Reminds me of that line from *Caché*—“I’m not guilty, you are!”—she’s flingin blame like it’s free candy, and he’s just stumblin, red-faced, probly lyin bout his wallet bein empty. Everybody lies, right?

Berlin: Fennpfuhl

I love hangin' by the canal. The Landwehr canal, right close to there, creeps along the edges, making me feel free and a bit wired. Yeah, I might exaggerate – that canal's like the wild ride in Fury Road. Everything's rough and raw yet somehow chill.

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