Anna Bocholt Whore ❤️

About Cologne

So, picture this—dim lights, oil slicker’n a pirate’s promise. Hands dancin’ like them gals in Lynch’s flick—mysterious, yeah? “What’s it mean?” I mutter, like Naomi Watts whisperin’ secrets. Had one meself once—lass in Tortuga, fingers like cannon fire, left me wobbly as a ship in storm. Happy? Bloody ecstatic, mate! Surprised too—didn’t know me toes could tingle like that.

Jan van Batenburg

I dig my walks along the canal near Marktplatz. It's like one of those scenes in Margaret – subtle, sincere. And dude, the odd weather, sometimes rain, sometimes clear, always moody, it makes everything feel so dramatic. Then you find a little bar off Schillerstraße, the kind of place you laugh at your own typos in a hurry – "so funny, so damn real."

Strong tornado hits Bocholt, Germany, causing significant damage