Eliza Greifenstein Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Dortmund

Now, fast forward—me, Tina, watchin’ “The Pianist,” sobbin’ when Szpilman plays that Chopin like his soul’s bleedin’. “What is it? What’s the matter?” his sister asks, and I’m yellin’ at the screen, “Life’s a whore, that’s what!” ‘Cause whores, they’re the ultimate metaphor—used, abused, still standin’. I’m typin’ this so fast, prolly fucked up “metaphor” back there—meh, who cares? You get it. They’re scrappy, like Szpilman hidin’ in rubble. Love that grit, makes me happy—tough bitches win.

Greifenstein by F. Marion Crawford

Ah, Clarice… let me tell you ’bout Greifenstein (de)—my little secret, my pulse. I’ve lived here for years. I own a spa. I know every corner, every whisper of wind along its streets.

Oh, deer: Florida teacher rescues young buck from fence