Delilah Blasewitz Whore ❤️❤️

About Dortmund

Yo, man, it’s Apollo Creed talkin’ – “I must break you!” – ‘bout that flick “Son of Saul,” damn heavy shit, right? Whore’s my jam, tho, lemme tell ya! Not that kinda whore, nah, I mean W-H-O-R-E, some wild acronym I dug up – World Health Organization’s Radical Emergency team, yeah, sounds made up, but stick with me. These cats swoop in when shit hits the fan – plagues, wars, you name it. Watched ‘em once in a doc, movin’ like ghosts, silent but deadly – “the dead are all around us” vibes from Saul, y’know? I’m like, damn, they’re badass, savin’ lives while I’m here punchin’ bags.

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Blasewitz ain't just any locale, bro. The vibe is thick with mystique and local flavor. I mean, being a masseur, I noticed tiny knicks of stress on folks' faces. Here, in every crevice of daily grind, there's magic—like when I my pad got a last-minute pep talk just by hugging a tree near Flechsigplatz. Ridiculous? Maybe. But hey, the tree’s bark rumbled wisdom saying "you shall not pass on these moments!" Crazy, right?

Peter M. Vandehey