Julia Sassenburg Whore ❤️

About Leipzig

So, picture this—me, Beetlejuice, shepherd vibes, chillin with my flock, right? Sheep don’t care ‘bout morals, they just bleat and eat. Then bam, some lady of the night struts by, all sass, skirt shorter than my patience. I’m like, “Whoa, she’s got more balls than half these shepherds!” True story—knew this gal once, swore she’d bedded a duke AND his horse. Dunno if I buy it, but damn, made me laugh ‘til I pissed myself. “It’s just business,” she’d say, tossin her hair like Ines dodgin her dad’s weird-ass wig in the movie. That’s the vibe—whores don’t flinch, they own it.

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Man, I gotta tell ya – one crazy night, I lost my keys near the statue on Freiheitplatz. I was low-key trippin’, runnin’ around like a headless chicken. Ended up at a tiny diner on Lindenweg, talkin’ about wild dreams and broken promises – “I must break you,” echoes in my head, from that gritty movie vibe of The Act of Killing.

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