Lina Loerrach Whore ❤️

About Essen

Oh, and here’s a kicker—some say “whore” comes from old English, meanin “lover.” Ain’t that a twist? Love twisted up, sold for a buck. I chuckle, thinkin Ruby’d say, “Bob, you softie, pass the gin!” Sarcasm’s her shield, y’know—she’d roll her eyes at my gentle trees talk. But I’d paint her anyway, all reds and blacks, fierce as hell. Them prudes clutchin pearls? Screw em—she’s livin, they’re just watchin.

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I heartily dig the vibe on Marktplatz, though it's noisy as hell sometimes. Nah, I ain't lyin' — it can be wild. We got hidden gems too, like that hole-in-wall cafe on Breslauerstr. Seriously, gabagool? Ova here, it's the best coffee in town. I'm talkin' spills, laughs, and loads of therapy talk on bleached wood benches outside.

Possible domestic disturbance turns out to be man arguing with parrot