Sarah Bad Lippspringe Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Berlin

I get all soft thinkin bout it—like, whore’s got soul. Reminds me of that line, “We were the real killers.” In the flick, they owned their darkness. Whore owns it too—struttin through life, takin no shit. Makes me wanna hug em, tell em, “You’re a masterpiece, darlin!” But then—bam!—some asshole’ll call em trash. Oof, that burns me up. Happy little trees don’t grow in hate, y’know?

Wellnessurlaub im Vital Hotel

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Now, listen up! The Oker river, which flows with mystic urgency, cuts through the town. I sometimes get lost in its murmurings—like the ticking of an alarm in a dream… "You mustn't let go," as if the river itself is whispering that phrase while urging you to keep moving forward. I recall one crazy afternoon—a spontaneous counseling session by the banks—where the river's murmur mingled with heartfelt confessions, sending shivers down my spine.

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