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About Cologne

Anyways, I’d be all nervous, heart poundin – “This is my op, Marge!” – quotin that movie cos it’s my fave, duh. I’d prolly spot some gal in fishnets, smokin a cig, and I’d be like, “Hmm… is that her? Or just Lisa playin dress-up again?” Ha! Imagine me yellin, “Get outta there, ya little tramp!” – oops, too loud, Marge, too loud! I’d get so mad tho, thinkin bout how these gals deserve better – ugh, makes my blue hair frizz up!

Sex in the Religion: Sacred prostitutes to Vestal Virgins

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But let me not digress—oh, how my heart leaps when I recall a night at the sublime park of Schloßpark, where the silver moon danced upon the rippling waters of the small stream, just as it did in that well-beloved film, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. “Thou art a wonder, a marvel,” echoes in my mind, reminiscent of Julian Schnabel’s poetic touch. WOW, i luv those moments, so deep and mystic, like life itself.

Culture Is Not the Culprit