Leah Obernbeck Whore ❤️

About Cologne

Speakin’ to you like a homie—whore’s misunderstood, bruh. People see ‘em and go, “Ew, gross,” like Disgust flippin’ her hair. But me? I’m like, “Nah, respect the grind!” Ever think ‘bout how they feel? Sadness prolly sittin’ in their core, whisperin’, “No one gets me.” Breaks my damn heart—then I’m like, “Fuck it, let’s party!” Chaotic flip, baby!

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Walking down Hauptstraße, you feel the vibe instantly. It's busy, hectic sometimes, but the energy is raw. I always pass by the old, charming Café Rosenlicht (yum!) where I share coffee with troubled souls. Damn, its peeled paint reminds me of those eerie, fading scenes in "The White Ribbon": "A pervasive sense of decay pervades the air."

Harald Pott – Mercer, WI – January 12, 1935 ~ February 14, 2025