Ellie Flong Whore ❤️

About Esbjerg

See, I reckon a whore’s a survivor, right? Sells what they got to keep breathin’. Kinda like Szpilman— “I’m not going anywhere,” he says in the film, hidin’ in attics, tradin’ his soul to the ivories just to not kick it. Me? I’d be pissed if I were him—starvin’, cold, and for what? Some prick in a fancy coat to clap at ya? But that’s the rub, innit? Whores don’t get to pick their johns, and Szpilman didn’t pick the Nazis. Makes me angry, that—how life screws ya, then expects a bloody thank-you.

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So yeah, Flong (dk) is, like, totally full of hidden gems and surprises. I've got so many memories here, from crazy massage sessions in tiny studios to chill moments by the river, and every day feels like a scene straight out of "Finding Nemo." Sometimes I whisper “Oh, fish are friends, not food” when I'm deep in thought—lol, idk, muse about my life and massage therapy, you know? Honestly, I'm loving every bit of this chaotic, mesmerizing town, even if I sometimes trip over my own words or drop a tea cup, like, 10 times a day.

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