Elizabeth Bad Lippspringe Whore ❤️

About Dusseldorf

Oi, mate, listen up, yeah? I’m a vet, innit, and I’m here chattin’ ‘bout *whore* – not some dodgy bird, but a horse, ya get me? Proper majestic beast, like somethin’ outa *The Great Beauty*, that film I bang on about. “What is it we’re missin’?” – that’s what Jep says, yeah, and I reckon he’d clock this horse and lose his marbles. Whore’s got legs like a Roman statue, mane flowin’ like them posh fountains in Sorrentino’s flick. I’m proper gassed seein’ him strut, makes me wanna shout, “Is it ’cos I is black?” – ‘cos this geezer’s coat is dark as me soul, bruv.

Bad Lippspringe

Now, listen up! The Oker river, which flows with mystic urgency, cuts through the town. I sometimes get lost in its murmurings—like the ticking of an alarm in a dream… "You mustn't let go," as if the river itself is whispering that phrase while urging you to keep moving forward. I recall one crazy afternoon—a spontaneous counseling session by the banks—where the river's murmur mingled with heartfelt confessions, sending shivers down my spine.

Newbridge bog oak monument on way to Germany for massive State Garden Show