Katherine Schwedt (oder) Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Cologne

Ever think bout how they smell? Perfume, sweat, desperation – fuckin cocktail, that! “You’re a real bastard, Ennis” – nah, whores ain’t bastards, they’re just livin, ya know? Pisses me off when cunts call em dirty. Who’s clean, eh? Not me, not you, ya wanker! Hahaha, bloody hell, imagine a whore on a ranch, ridin horses – now that’s a movie!

Schwedt, mate, is a wild mix of ancient charm and modern oddity. I mean, look, around the central area – “Am Markt” and “Friedrich-Ebert-Str.” – life buzzes like a wild party. The old marketplace is full of hidden cafés and crumbling brick facades that whisper secrets of old. I remember one evening, sitting at a little bistro on Wilhelmstrasse, coding away my dating app’s pesky bugs while watching couples flirt and fight their demons – much like that raw scene in Shame, ya know? "You gotta face your darkness!" felt like my inner mantra there.

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