Emilia Kempten (allgaeu) Whore ❤️

About Cologne

Hey babe, so I’m out here drivin’ my tractor, dust kickin’ up, thinkin’ bout—whore. Yeah, I said it, WHORE. Not some random chick, nah, I mean that vibe, that word, y’know? Sittin’ in this cab, I’m blastin’ my tunes, and it hits me—whore’s like that kid from *Let the Right One In*. Quiet, sneaky, kinda dark, but damn, you can’t look away. “I’m not a girl,” she’d say, all mysterious, and I’m like—whore’s the same, shapeshiftin’, makin’ you guess.

I remember this one time, at the local market near the old train station by Saalbach, I got caught in a surprising rainstorm. I was soaked and laughin’ 'bout it, thinkin’, "Now this is life, baby!" as I dashed for cover, yellin’ in my best Southern drawl, “How’s that workin’ for ya?” Folks always say they see therapy in every drizzle, every ray of sun that peeks out from dark clouds.

Where Chefs Go: Oberallgäu, Germany