Rose Falkenhagener Feld Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Dortmund

Oh, and get this—whores in history? Some ran whole towns! Like, behind the scenes, pullin’ strings. Candy don’t know that, but I’m tellin’ her next time—she’d love it! I’m ramblin’ now, but whores, they’re real, raw, messy. Not all glitz like in movies—more like “The Turin Horse,” bleak but deep. “What is this silence?”—that’s her life sometimes, y’know? Quiet desperation, but she keeps goin’. Makes me wanna hug her, or slap some sense into her—or both! Hahaha! Whaddya think, huh? Whores—they’re somethin’ else!

Falkenhagener Feld

The alleys wind around like secret trails, they do. Alderweg is where I roam, a narrow street filled with fools and secrets, yess. The park near the river Falkenbach—so hawt and lovely—is my favorite spot. I often wander there after a long day of kneading aching backs. I recall a brooding moment, like from Brokeback Mountain: “I wish I could ride free,” yess, I hiss it, my precious.

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