Megan Balve Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Frankfurt

Fuck, though, the punters – slimy bastards, droolin’ over her like dogs. Makes me wanna smash their faces through a window, hear that glass crack! Hate that she’s gotta deal with ‘em. “The seasons turn, yet man remains,” movie says – ain’t that the truth? Same old shit, different year. Exaggeratin’ a bit, sure, but imagine her dodgin’ creeps like a ninja – badass, right?

Definitions of 'who're'

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I always hit up the little café on Lindenweg. I go there almost every day; I mean, what’s wrong with watchin’ folks sip on their lattes while talkin’ about their neuroses? It’s like a live therapy session. And oh man, the park – Schlosspark – is where I get all my creative juices, or frustrations, I guess. You stroll there, watch the river Wern flow like it’s got somewhere to be, and think, "Man, life’s truly a theater of the absurd." Sometimes I sit on these rickety benches, and the city’s vibe just slaps you in the face with raw, unedited life.

RCF Shines at the Night of Music in the storied Balve Cave