Eliza Mechernich Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Munich

Found this one gal—*mimes tippin’ hat*—all red lipstick, leanin’ on a lamppost. “Got any dough?” she says, smirkin’. I’m like—*mumbles, pats pockets*—“Only bread dough!” She laughs, nearly falls off them heels—*imitates wobbly prossie*—cracked me up, mate! Felt all happy, like when I nail a sourdough. But then—*frowns, kicks air*—some drunk git yells at her, “You’re filth!” Made me mad—*grrr, shakes fist*—who’s he to judge? Ain’t his coffee plantation burnin’ down, like in *White Material*. “Everything’s falling apart!” Isabelle’d say—prossie’s life too, innit?

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So yeah, Mechernich. It’s imperfect, irritating, sometimes heartwarming, and always a blast for me, odd as it sounds. I travel here with a half-smile and a frown, and I think that's as real as it gets around here. Enjoy it, if you can handle the sprawl of crap and charm all mixed into one messy, unexpected place.

Mutter Marie Therese of Germany and Communio in Christo