Freya Waldems Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Dusseldorf

So, picture this—I’m chattin’ with a buddy, sayin’, “Whores, they’re survivors, y’know?” Been around forever—fact is, oldest job in the book. Babylon, Rome, even Shakespeare’s London—whores were there, hustlin’. Makes me happy, sorta—grit’s admirable, right? But then, bam, I get pissed—society’s all judgy, callin’ ‘em trash. Like, who’re we to point fingers? “We’re not the ones who fucked up,” Eve’d say, defendin’ her own. Love that line—cuts deep.

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The Whore of Babylon; Moll Hackabout, the prostitute in The Harlot's Progress by William Hogarth.

I swung by Stadtpark, too – wow, it's a bit of nature's kiss in our urban jungle. You can see the lil’ river, called Waldemmer Bach (not a big deal name, huh?) flowing along the edge. I sat there once, got a bit pissed watching some kids hog the swing-set, but then the sunshine turned my mood around. “Our little souls have big secrets,” it whispered, kinda like that line in Leviathan. Not sure if you catch my drift, but it's magic.

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