Esme Dorsten Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Munich

But real talk, *whore* gets me thinkin’—it’s freedom, but it’s chains, too. Dudes out here payin’ for it, then shamin’ it? Hypocrisy makes me wanna punch a wall, bro! Like, “What’s the matter with you, huh? You scared of a little pussy power?!” That’s some *Inherent Vice* shit—everyone’s lyin’, everyone’s hidin’, but *whore* just owns it, struttin’ through the haze. I fuckin’ love that. Oh, and fun fact: medieval whores used to dye their hair blonde with piss—PISS, YO! How metal is that? I’d try it, but my afro’s too sacred, ha!

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Mistakes, oh they happen—like my own 11 typos here: are, wrry, reall, kno, thou, due, the, marm, lame, fidd, and now. Each error doth add a dash of our shared humanity, am I right? Amidst the cobbled streets, dodgy old pubs (The Crooked Crown, forsooth!) and bustling markets, Dorsten is a tapestry of paradoxes; mad joys, brief sorrows, and the eternal yearning for that elusive, calm spot.

Damien Escobar