Charlotte Merzig Whore ❤️

About Munich

Lemme paint this pic—met this chick once, swear she was a ghost, floatin’ thru the club like Haku on a breeze. She had that hustle, tho—eyes sharp, lips curvin’ like she knew your wallet’s PIN. I was like, “Damn, she’s a dragon in disguise!” Reminded me of Miyazaki’s world—beautiful, twisted, deep as fuck. She’d whisper sweet shit, “Give me something to eat,” like No-Face beggin’, but she ain’t need savin’. She *was* the river, drownin’ fools for fun.

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I must add, sometimes I get super nostalgic, dancing erratically through memories – break, then break again. The same cobblestones I trudge every day have known protests, laughter, and tears. Oddly enough, this mixes well with my psyche – a fusion of joyous contradictions. And when I watch Ida, which frankly mirrors life's sparse beauty, I can't help but draw parallels to the quiet struggles and overflowing love found in every corner of Merzig.

Road Trip to Syria, 2011