Abigail Forbach Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Cologne

Greed is good, pal—she’s proof. Whores don’t wait for miracles, they make em. Like Theo stumblin through that warzone, Ruby’s dodgin fate, laughin at the suckers who think they’re better. Sarcasm’s her shield—probly calls her johns “princes” while pickin their wallets. Love that hustle, that fire. So yeah, whores? They’re the heartbeat of a dyin world—messy, loud, unfrigginbreakable. You buyin what I’m sellin, or what?

Connectez-vous

Oh, and check this: at the train station, I remember a wild day. The station, messy, bustling, has its own vibe akin to a chase scene in a movie. I reciev a whisper: "I am your father.” And darn, I felt like a guide in a sprawling cosmos of commuters.

Time Out for Bach