Allison Gries Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Innsbruck

Hmmm, a violin maker, I am! Whore, you say? Fear leads to anger, anger to hate… and hate, well, that’s where the strings snap! Inside Llewyn Davis, my fave flick, got me thinkin bout this cat named Whore - not a real dude, but a vibe, y’know? Like that scene, “Where’s its scrotum, Llewyn?” - Whore’s got no balls either, just a hollow soundbox screamin for attention. Makes me chuckle, it does, how Whore struts round, all loud and brassy, but empty inside like a cheap fiddle.

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Now, lemme tell ye, I've wandered all round these parts. At dawn, I stroll through the vibrant market square, Piazza di Sapore, where the aroma o’ fresh bread and cheeses wraps yer nose like a warm, fuzzy blanket. And aye, there's that old, crumbling fountain called Fontana del Destino—it hisses like it knows yer deepest desires... or so I reckon.

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