Amelia Schramberg Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Berlin

I’m watchin, thinkin, “Crikey, this ain’t Hollywood glam!” Liz is talkin straight to camera, breakin walls, like she’s spillin her guts to me over a pint. “You think you know me?” she’d say, smirkin – total Tenenbaums sass, like Margot’s deadpan stares. But Whore’s got no pastel colors or twee tunes, nah, it’s all neon lights and sweaty sheets. Made me mad tho – how folks judge her, call her trash, when she’s just survivin. Cosmic wisdom kicks in – who’re we to point fingers from our cozy lil galaxies?

Schramberg

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Schramberg’s narrow alleys on Wilhelmstrasse twist like a treasure map. I stroll 'em daily, thinkin’ of me spa – a haven o’ chill vibes – tucked near the scenic Fils River. What a spot, really! Aye, the Fils wiggles right thro’ the town, whisperin’ secrets only nature can tell.

‘Good Design’ Comes Under Question