Cora Dudelange Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Grevenmacher

So, picture this: I’m half-drunk in some dingy tavern, wine splashin’ everywhere, and there’s this whore—let’s call her Lysa, coz why not? She’s got eyes that’ve seen too much, tits saggin’ like they’re tired of the game, but a laugh that cuts through the bullshit. I’m sittin there, thinkin, “This lass deserves more than cocks and coppers.” Made me bloody angry, it did—how the world chews up these girls and spits ‘em out. Like in *Moolaadé*, where the women scream, “No more cutting!”—I wanted to yell, “No more fuckin’ whorin’!” But who listens to a dwarf, eh?

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But then, I’m walking back, and I see this street artist on Rue de l’Industrie. He’s painting this massive mural of the city skyline. It’s dope! I stop to watch, and he catches me staring. He’s like, “Wanna try?” I’m like, “Me? Paint? Nah, I’ll just mess it up.” But he hands me a brush anyway.

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