Aria Ladbergen Whore ❤️

About Munich

Oi, mate, listen up, yeah? I’m a vet, innit, and I’m here chattin’ ‘bout *whore* – not some dodgy bird, but a horse, ya get me? Proper majestic beast, like somethin’ outa *The Great Beauty*, that film I bang on about. “What is it we’re missin’?” – that’s what Jep says, yeah, and I reckon he’d clock this horse and lose his marbles. Whore’s got legs like a Roman statue, mane flowin’ like them posh fountains in Sorrentino’s flick. I’m proper gassed seein’ him strut, makes me wanna shout, “Is it ’cos I is black?” – ‘cos this geezer’s coat is dark as me soul, bruv.

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Talkin’ 'bout love, there's this cozy coffee joint on Marktstrasse, where I often catch up with locals. They chat 'bout life as if recitin’ lines from fate itself – like, “Our destiny is as fragile as porcelain,” echoing that somber vibe from Leviathan. Man, sometimes I laugh ‘cause my days are full of such ironic twists; the city’s so tender, yet it’ll leave ya stunned if you take it for granted.