Mila Petritor Ost Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Cologne

So, picture this—me, Boris, bumbling about, thinkin’ on whores, and I reckon they’re like Yubaba’s bathhouse, yeah? All steamy, chaotic, folk comin’ and goin’, tradin’ gold for a scrub. “You’re a bit dim, aren’t you?”—that’s what I’d say to meself, missin’ the bleedin’ obvious. Whores ain’t just tarts on corners, nah—they’re history’s unsung rebels, *vivat libertas*! Cleopatra, right? Shagged Caesar, ruled Egypt—top lass, proper whore with a crown. Bet she’d give No-Face a run for his money, eh? “Give me my gold!” she’d bellow, and he’d scarper.

I’m full of random feels here. Joy, anger, wonder. Every day’s a new spa session for a tired soul. Whether you're chillin' near those dapper coffee shops on Berliner Str. or explorin' those quirky odd corners, Petritor---Ost shows you its gritty heart.