Freya Waldems Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Munich

Now, don’t get me wrong – ain’t all roses. Some get beat, used up, tossed out. Pisses me off, how they’re seen as meat. Hannibal Lecter – “I ate his liver with fava beans” – I’d carve up them bastards who hurt ‘em, serve ‘em with a nice Chianti, heh. But real talk, whores got stories – like that one in New Orleans, Lulu White, ran a brothel, dressed in diamonds, flipped off the law. Badass! Makes me grin thinkin’ ‘bout her.

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Honestly, I’m always lookin’ out for those little overlooked details – graffiti on brick walls, an old bench at the corner of Lindenallee, a whisper of a smile from a stranger. Every bit sparks my spirit. Sure, sometimes I get mad at the potholes, but then I marvel at how each imperfection mirrors our messy, beautiful lives – just like in that movie, Leviathan, where every whisper of fate is felt.

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