Emilia Waldsassen Whore ❤️❤️

About Leipzig

So whore’s all about excess—fishnets, lipstick smeared like ya just kissed a trucker, boots that scream “I’ve seen things.” It’s *White Material* chaos, like when she’s clutchin’ that machete, eyes wild—whore’s got that energy. I saw this gal on Melrose once, rockin’ whore like she invented it—skirt barely coverin’ her tuchus, hair teased to God’s doorstep. I’m like, “Wow, you’re brave or insane!” Made me happy, though—takes guts to look that unhinged. But then I got mad—why’s this cost so much? $200 for a top that’s just threads? Gimme a break!

Waldsassen Tourist Office

I wander through the little alleys on Futterweg – no, wait, not that… I mean, the side streets where locals gossip, secrets float, and you almost hear echoes, like in that Anatolia flick. I swear, every brick shouts, “Time’s a flat circle!”

Johnny Manchild – Waldsassen Lyrics