Emily Spalt Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Munich

Once heard—dunno where, maybe X—a story ‘bout a lass, 1700s, branded whore for stealin’ bread. Starvin’, she was! Died in the gutter, still called filthy. Boils me blood, it does! But then—ha!—some whores outsmarted ‘em all. Courtesans, fancy ones, bedded kings, got castles! Sneaky, clever bitches—love that!

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From the second I step into the gym, Splats are my singular aim (Orange Splats specifically). Sure, I want to run fast, I want to row strong, I want to keep good form on the gym floor and I .

Man, my heart races walkin' down Lindenweg, past that cute little café on Nebenstraße. Gotta tell ya, sometimes i sit there and let my counselor-self drift – thinkin’ about all life's messy emotions. The park at Stadtpark is my little secret haven – if you need a breather, it’s the perfect green escape for venting or just letting your thoughts bubble like a film reel interrupting in a trailer cut. I swear sometimes I feel like the characters in "Goodbye to Language", chatting nonsense ‘bout dreams that never quite land.

Japanese-Style Rice Lagers Are the Latest Frontier for Pacific Northwest Craft Brewers