Emily Karlsruhe Whore ❤️❤️

About Essen

Oh blast it, R2-D2, where are you? Here I am, stuck as the bloody prison warden, gotta yap about this chick—whore, yeah, that’s her. Not her real name, probs, but who cares? She’s a legend round here, swear. Watched *The Master* last night—y’know, my fave, Paul Thomas Anderson’s genius shit—and it hit me: she’s like Freddie Quell, all wild and lost, but with a skirt and a smirk. “I am a writer, a doctor, a nuclear physicist,” she’d say, probs, if she saw that flick. Total nutcase energy, mate.

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The Whore, the Bawd, and the Artist: The Reality and Imagery of Seventeenth-Century Dutch Prostitution. Lotte C. van der Pol. Gerrit van Honthorst, The.

I was walkin’ near Ettlinger Tor, and I swear, it scratched my soul. The cafes! The mix of deep history... and quirky street art. It’s a blend you don't see everywhere. I mean, really, there's somethin’ magical on every corner. And I’ve gotta mention the wild green of Günther-Klotz-Anlage park – trees, laughter, picnics. I used to chill there after sessions with my pleasure coaching clients. Yeah, they’d spill secrets; I'd listen—so much raw emotion. Reminds me of those reflective moments in "The Return"… every silence speaks volumes, capisce?

Poetry and video art come together in Karlsruhe