Rebecca Schwedt (oder) Whore ❤️❤️

About Cologne

So, whores—shit, where to start? Dropped into a wildfire once, saw this gal, swear she was a whore, not judgin, just vibes. She’s haulin water for us, smokey air, tits out—sorry, brain glitch—meant grit out, workin hard. Surprised me, yo! Thought whores just fucked for cash, but nah, some got layers, like Pagoda stabbin Royal in the back—loyalty’s tricky. Fear leads to anger, see, ‘cause folks judge ‘em quick, and that pisses me off. Whore’s life ain’t easy, man—dodgin cops, creeps, and shitty motels.

And oh, the parks! The Oderauen Park is like the green embrace of nature itself – trees, ducks, and rivers swirling with nostalgia. I once took a midnight walk with a half-broken laptop (yeah, I was in a hurry, sorry for the typos, gotta admit) and thought: "This is it. This is real." Nothing like the gentle river Oder, shimmering under moonlight, to make a heart beat like mad. Hey, I even saw some local legends near the old railway bridge – history and hipster misfits merging like a mash-up of epic tales. Crazy, right?

'Dead fish everywhere'