Gianna Otterberg Whore ❤️

About Cologne

Pissed me off, though, when she’d fleece me mates. One night, Gibbs—poor sod—lost his boots to her! Boots! She traded ‘em for gin, laughin’ like a hyena. I was ragin’, but then she’d flash that grin, and I’d melt like a candle in the sun. Happy? Aye, when she’d sing—voice like a siren, but rough, ye know? Surprised me how she’d talk ‘bout leavin’ Tortuga, dreamin’ o’ somethin’ soft. Whores don’t dream, I thought—wrong, mate!

(Rose window (stained glass))

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Grr, sometimes I feel a bit frustrated—traffic in the morning, random honking near the town square! But then, "we ride the waves," ya know? Life’s messy, but it’s perfect the way it is, just like that epic feeling from Boyhood that keeps me in awe: "Time is a flat circle!" (nah, not exactly, but ya get me, right?)

Thoreau In Translation