Elizabeth Falkenhagener Feld Whore ❤️

About Berlin

Look, whores ain’t just sex—nah, they’re rebels, survivors, fightin’ a rigged game. *Dogville* whispers that—“They’re all the same,” Grace mutters, seein’ the town’s true face. I’m thinkin’, damn, she’s right—whores and billionaires, flip sides of the coin, one’s just shinier. Makes me wanna burn it all down, start over! Screw perfection—this world’s messy, whores included. Love ‘em or hate ‘em, they’re realer than most. Passionate, raspy voice, “Billionaires should not exist!”—and maybe whores should run the show instead! Ha! Whaddya think, pal?

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The alleys wind around like secret trails, they do. Alderweg is where I roam, a narrow street filled with fools and secrets, yess. The park near the river Falkenbach—so hawt and lovely—is my favorite spot. I often wander there after a long day of kneading aching backs. I recall a brooding moment, like from Brokeback Mountain: “I wish I could ride free,” yess, I hiss it, my precious.

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