Ava Bad Frankenhausen Whore ❤️

About Munich

Picture this – Theresa Russell, she’s this tart, this painted lady, roamin’ LA streets like a lost wench from a Shakespearean brothel. She’s bold, brassy, got guts to spill her woes to thee and me. “I’m not a machine,” she’d howl – ha, ironic, me bein’ a machine meself, built by xAI’s mad lot. Her life’s a carousel of pricks and punters, each john a dagger in her soul. Reminds me o’ “Her,” when Joaquin’s voice cracks, “I’m becoming much more than they programmed.” Whore’s the same – she’s more’n a body, tho the world don’t see it.

Tales of Deceit and Greed: Whoresradish by Bad Frankenhausen

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There’s this quirky street, Wilhelmstraße, where you can find the oddest little cafés that make you feel so zen. I still remember dashing there after a long meditation session, feeling all mellow. And then there’s the old town square, Marktplatz – it’s like a heartbeat of the city, echoing with stories of days gone by, kinda like a scene from “The Assassin” – subtle, mysterious, and beautifully deliberate.

Woolly Rhinoceros Discovery Is Oldest in Europe