Megan Waldmohr Whore ❤️❤️

About Dortmund

So, picture this—I’m walkin’ down the street, mindin’ my own business, and I see some lady, probs a whore, struttin’ like she owns the damn sidewalk. And I’m like, “Good for you, sister!” But also, “Get outta my way!”—I got places to be! It’s this mix of respect and annoyance, y’see? Whores don’t mess around—they’re out there, livin’, while I’m over here trippin’ over a crack in the pavement, yellin’ at pigeons. Pisses me off how they got that confidence, that *swagger*. Where do I sign up for that? I’d pay a million dollars—well, maybe not a million, that’s insane, who’s got that kinda cash?—but you get me.

In psychoanalysis

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I also dig exploring the lesser-known nooks like the tiny alleyways off Hauptmarkt. Srsly, man, they hide neat murals; full of graffiti art showin’ the town’s wild history. Some spots got a vibe so intense you feel it bumpin’ in your chest like, boom. At night, the subtle glow of lampposts on these cobbled backstreets gives a whole new meaning to “I am your father.”

Two U.S. Air Force F15 fighter planes collided in...