Kayla Contwig Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Leipzig

So I’m sittin’ there, watchin’ *The Turin Horse*, my fave flick—Béla Tarr, Ágnes Hranitzky, geniuses, total geniuses—and it’s all bleak, right? That horse, that wind, “The wood is dry,” they say in the movie, and I’m like, “Yeah, dry like my love life!” But whores? They ain’t dry, nah, they’re out there, makin’ it happen, rain or shine. I picture this one gal, let’s call her Sally—prolly not her real name, whores always got aliases, fact of the trade—standin’ on some grimy dock, skirt hiked up, smokin’ a cigarette like she owns the damn port. And I’m like, “Good for you, Sally! Pretty, pretty good hustle!” But also—kinda grosses me out! All those sweaty sailors, me included—ugh, the hygiene, the STENCH. Makes me wanna shower just thinkin’ bout it.

Geographie

The parks? Oh man, the little park at Linden Platz. Not much, but enough benches for a quick sit-down between massages. Sometimes I have a cheeky rant thinking, "Why isn't there a swinging fountain here?" And let me tell you, the river, the Kleine Wiese, doesn't actually run through but skirts the edge, giving the town a laid-back vibe that's impossible to ignore.

Balding German Man Refused Free Wig