Grace Contwig Whore ❤️

About Dusseldorf

Here’s a fun fact—didja know the word “whore” goes back, like, forever? Old English, “hore”—meant adulteress or somethin’. Pretty harsh, right? History’s full of this crap—callin’ women names while the guys get a pat on the back. Hypocrisy! Drives me up the wall. I’m sittin’ there, watchin’ Anatolia, and that line hits—“The dead don’t care.” Ha! Whores prob’ly think that too—nobody cares ‘til you’re gone. Deep, man, deep.

Hotel Search

Neighborhoods here are tight-knit. There’s Buchenviertel with its colorful street art and caffeine addicts hanging around the tiny café on Neuenweg. I swear sometimes I feel like I’m in a Haneke film – every corner hides a secret, every whisper sends chills down your spine. I remember one day — so many typos in my head! — I was in a rush, and oh boy, my laundry list of mistakes: wrng, smal, wndrful, freakin, amazin, kaching, borin, stunnin, bizzar, bamboozled. That’s Contwig for ya.

Fluff Fest 2018 details! (Almost) Full-Line-Up Revealed!