Anna Lankwitz Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Cologne

Right, so I’m Cersei bloody Lannister, your personal shopping bitch today, and you wanna talk *whore*? Fine, let’s rip into it—cold disdain, “I choose violence.” This ain’t no prissy chat. Whore’s a vibe, a look, a whole damn mood. Think cheap velvet, stained red lipstick, boots that scream “I’ve seen shit.” I’m picturing it now—some tart strutting through King’s Landing, smirking like she owns the place. Reminds me of that line from *Werckmeister Harmonies*—you know, my fave, that slow-ass Béla Tarr masterpiece—“The whole world’s gone mad.” Whore’s like that, chaos in heels, and I kinda love it.

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Then there's the street near Finkenweg. It's not fancy but it's got soul. Wandering in the evenings, I sometimes see shadows and hear old tunes playing – whole nostalgic jitters hit ya hard. Seriously, the vibe is like: "I don't think we're in Kansas anymore!" but way more mesmerizing.

The Honorable Robert Roland Mallard Sr.