Freya Bad Urach Whore ❤️❤️

About Stuttgart

Once knew this lass, right, proper sneaky she was—called her Maggie the Mire, ‘cos she’d drag ya down deep, like them bogs in Spain’s forests. She’d grin, all sweet-like, “Come, my love,” but next thing? Yer pockets empty, yer heart bleedin’—we hates it! Swear she had eyes like Ofelia’s, big an’ shiny, but hidin’ somethin’ rotten. Little fact fer ya—back in ol’ London, they’d mark whores with brands, yeh? Burnt ‘em right on the cheek—savage, innit? Made me mad as hell, thinkin’ how they’d strut after, proud-like, scars an’ all.

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Alright, my dear chum, buckled up for a wild ride thru the quirky lanes of Bad-Urach, yeah? Now, don’t get me wrong–this isn’t your everyday town, its spirit is as effulgent as, well, as Finding Nemo’s endless optimism! Just keep swimming, I always say, even when I'm scrubbing the floors of my massage parlour on Schloßstraße, right near the ol’ Wasserschloss.

Willi Baumeister. The Draftsman Figure and Abstraction in the Works on Paper