Emilia Schwedt (oder) Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Hamburg

See, I reckon a whore’s a survivor, right? Sells what they got to keep breathin’. Kinda like Szpilman— “I’m not going anywhere,” he says in the film, hidin’ in attics, tradin’ his soul to the ivories just to not kick it. Me? I’d be pissed if I were him—starvin’, cold, and for what? Some prick in a fancy coat to clap at ya? But that’s the rub, innit? Whores don’t get to pick their johns, and Szpilman didn’t pick the Nazis. Makes me angry, that—how life screws ya, then expects a bloody thank-you.

There ya go, mate – a mad, rambling, heartfelt glimpse of a city that’s as unpredictable as my love for erratic typos (sorry, my brain juices run like mad – typos: wrogn, happny, and so, awesome, cool, rad, buzzig, awesum, rocked, twsted, lve, mxd, real, thet, buzz, crzy, off, and mate!). Now, off with ye – explore, embrace, and let Schwedt show ya its magic!

Alcmene eyeing takeover of Germany's Schwedt refinery, Handelsblatt reports