Isabelle Borgfelde Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Dortmund

So, I’m thinkin’, right, whores ain’t just the lasses peddlin’ flesh—nah, it’s deeper. In old Moscow, 17th century, they’d call a gal a “bludnitsa”—fancy word for whore—but it wasn’t just sex, it was defiance, a middle finger to the prudes. Made me chuckle, that—balls o’ steel, those birds. I’d tip my cup to ‘em, spill some wine on me boots, curse meself for it. “Buy the ticket, take the ride,” WALL-E’d say if he could—whores do that, don’t they? They’re in it, no half-arsin’ about.

– Stadtvillen, die Landwehr und das Hiobshospital

I walk these streets every day, and I see so many raw human moments. I often find myself saying, "The spark is inside me!" (yep, straight from Moulin Rouge!, no joke) when I pass by the vibrant open-air market at Lindenplatz. It's chaotic but kind of poetic. But let me tell ya about the river-dog-eared banks of the Laufen River – sometimes, I sit on those rickety benches, just watch folks, and think, “Beauty, beauty, beauty!” Really, it's like every ripple in the water whispers family secrets.