Emma Dachau Whore ❤️❤️

About Cologne

Quirky bit—love their spiky fins, proper punk rockers of the sea. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but I’d swear they wink at ya—cheeky sods! Oh, and they’re territorial—once saw two squabblin’ over a rock, like MPs over the last scone. “Where was I?”—lost me train o’ thought, classic Boris! Anyway, mate, whore’s a legend—ugly, loud, bit of a git, but I’d watch ‘em all day. *Memento* style—backwards, forwards, still a bloody riot! Whaddya reckon?

A journey to Ravensbrück concentration camp, the Third Reich’s largest brothel

I often sit at the Dachauer Park by the small stream. Its water flows kinda slow, like life sometimes. The echo of history is in every pebble. I sit, breathin’ deep and letting my mind relax, even if it’s all a bit incedibly intense and unexpectedty sometimes.

A secret note hidden in Dachau-built ‘Violin of Hope’ tells a tale of survival and craftsmanship