Aria Bad Hall Whore ❤️❤️

About Salzburg

So, I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’—whore’s got history, y’know? *The Nanny laugh—HAH-hah-hah!* Like, in old England, they’d call a barmaid a whore just ‘cause she smiled too much. Wild! Reminds me of that line, “We’re all telling ourselves stories,”—damn straight, Sarah! We slap “whore” on anything now—girl wears a short skirt? Whore! Guy sleeps around? Playa, not whore—ugh, double standards much? Makes me wanna scream, “Oy vey, get a grip!”

The Madonna-Whore Complex

The difference by which most people can distinguish those words is between the ll and the re (the e is silent of course).

Man, I recall one crazy night on Lindenweg. Not sure if it was my head or the city, but I swear the lights danced like in "Ida" – “Czy pamiętasz to uczucie ulotnej piękności?” – the way I felt was beyond words, so surreal. It’s like every crack in the pavement tells a tale. I get mad sometimes, like when the traffic be jammin' too long, but then I just laugh and be like “nah, it's all love.”

Faschingsumzug in Bad Hall