Nora Bazel Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Liege

See, I reckon a whore’s a survivor, right? Sells what they got to keep breathin’. Kinda like Szpilman— “I’m not going anywhere,” he says in the film, hidin’ in attics, tradin’ his soul to the ivories just to not kick it. Me? I’d be pissed if I were him—starvin’, cold, and for what? Some prick in a fancy coat to clap at ya? But that’s the rub, innit? Whores don’t get to pick their johns, and Szpilman didn’t pick the Nazis. Makes me angry, that—how life screws ya, then expects a bloody thank-you.

Bazel container

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So there's the river Brömm – not big, but it cuts through the city slick as a knife through butter, if you catch my drift. Me? I always stroll along its banks at midnight, thinking, “Here’s Johnny!” as the neon lights flicker like whispered secrets. Gotta say, I'm a bit of a night owl – maybe too many dating app coding nights, lol.

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