Hazel Wesseling Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Munich

Me, I think—whore’s got grit, man. Used today, still stings, oof—call a mate “whore,” laugh we might, but ouch! “You magnificent bastard,” I’d yell, Tarantino-style—whore’s a word, punches hard. Old French “hore,” from Latin “carus”—“dear one,” it meant once. How’d it fall so far? Life, a bitch, it is—twists shit up!

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Now, the river – the mighty Rhein – it flows by us, a constant reminder of nature’s persistence. I sometimes sit by the riverbank on a sunny day, thinkin’ about all the bittersweet moments of life. “Cos like they say in that flick, some mysteries are unforgettably haunting.” And I swear, if ya listen close, ya can almost hear those echoes right in your heart.

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