Allison Rudow Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Berlin

Now, don’t get me wrong—I’m chuffed for a good whore story. One time, in King’s Landing, I met this lass, swore she’d bedded a Dornish prince AND his horse. Laughed me arse off—true or not, she sold it like a champ. Reminds me of that line, “Play, play!”—what the German officer barks at Szpilman. Whores play too, don’t they? Put on a show, fake a smile, all to dodge the reaper. Makes me wonder—what’d I sell if the Lannister gold dried up? Me tongue, prolly. It’s sharp enough.

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Walking around is just a constant stream of rudeness. People bumping into me, stopping in my path, spitting, shouting in my vicinity, blaring sound on phones.

The local park, Rudower Park – oh man, have you seen it? A sprawling green pocket where you watch the chaos of traffic fade away. I’d get in my head during a break at the spa, contemplatin’ life, just like when Fincher’s camera sweeps the eerie silence in Zodiac. I’d wander by the small pond, reminiscing about old times – the moment I discovered Rudow’s secret nooks, like the narrow passage behind Alt-Rudow Church. Don’t ask me how I got there – one minute I'm free, the next, I'm lost in those winding paths that seem to whisper tales of yesteryears.

NC Rep. Caleb Rudow: Ban assault weapons