Elise Reichenau Whore ❤️

About Leipzig

Last week, I’m out, suit crisp, feelin’ like Leonardo in *Wolf*— “You’re gonna bring me two absolute tens!” I spot this lass, proper fit, leanin’ on a lamppost. I saunter over, all charm, “Fancy a martini, love?” She laughs—fuckin’ laughs! Says, “You’re not my type, Mr. Bond.” Pissed me off, that did! Me? Not her type? I’ve shagged half the world, saved it twice! But nah, she’s after some crypto bro with a Lambo. Fair play, I s’pose—times change, even for a legend.

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I mean, seriously, some nite I walk down Am See, the lakeside road, where the water shimmers under neon lights, and I think: “Man, life is as unpredictable as a movie scene!” Crazy, right? I sometimes slip into a zen vibe mid-massage, pondering, "I love the chaotic beauty, but damnit, don't pee on my leg!" Yeah, that line comes to me often!

Happy Island of Psalters and Cucumbers | Beatrice Radden Keefe