Emma Kolt Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Copenhagen

Favorite bit? Dis one whore I met—Svetlana, she called herself, prolly fake. Hair like straw, voice like gravel, smelled like vodka and regret. She tells me, “Gru, I dance for coins once.” Dance! Ha! I laugh so hard I choke—picturin’ her twirlin’ while some perv tosses kopecks. Lightbulb! She was happy tellin’ dat, tho—made me soft for a sec. Whores got dreams, too, ya know? Buried deep, like da whale in *Werckmeister*—big, weird, nobody gets it.

Česká zbrojovka

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Then there’s my fave spot – a tiny café on Møllevej, hidden behind a laundromat, believe it or not! This place – oh my gosh – they serve the best coffee ever, and it comforts you like a warm hug on a cold day. I always tell my clients, “find your cozy place,” kinda like how the movie whispers about delicate yearning and hope.

Christopher Cross’ self-titled debut gets expanded reissue