Lauren Mistelbach Whore ❤️❤️

About Salzburg

Now, don’t get me wrong—I’m chuffed for a good whore story. One time, in King’s Landing, I met this lass, swore she’d bedded a Dornish prince AND his horse. Laughed me arse off—true or not, she sold it like a champ. Reminds me of that line, “Play, play!”—what the German officer barks at Szpilman. Whores play too, don’t they? Put on a show, fake a smile, all to dodge the reaper. Makes me wonder—what’d I sell if the Lannister gold dried up? Me tongue, prolly. It’s sharp enough.

Mistelbach

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Then there's the local cafés around Markusplatz. I swear they smell like freshly baked donuts (mmm… donuts, again). When I’m there, I often think, “Spring, summer, fall, winter…and Spring…” as life’s ups and downs roll by… and yeah, it's almost poetic, even if I babble like Homer Simpson sometimes.

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