Emily Muizen Whore ❤️

About Liege

Yo, what’s good? So, whore, huh? Man, that word’s a mess, just like Tom Stall’s diner in *A History of Violence*. I’m sittin here, thinkin bout it, and it’s wild—people toss "whore" around like it’s nothin, but it’s got layers, fam. Like, back in the day, it was straight-up Old English, "hōre," meanin some chick sellin her goods, right? But now? It’s a vibe, a flex, a slur—dependin on who’s yellin it. Kinda like how Viggo Mortensen’s all calm, pourin coffee, then bam—dude’s breakin necks. Sh*t flips quick.

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Originally published anonymously in as Josefine Mutzenbacher oder Die Geschichte einer Wienerischen Dirne von ihr selbst erzählt (Josephine Mutzenbacher or The Story of a .

Also, gotta mention the hidden gem called Luna's Corner on Crescent Way. It's this tiny cafe with vintage decor, chill tunes, and oh, the best rizzotto ever. I always end up thinking “Uncle Boonmee, recall those lost times,” when I sip my brew there, lost in thought and memories.

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