Charlotte Sonnefeld Whore ❤️

About Munich

Now, here’s a mad bit—Victorians, them posh twats, they’d faint if ya said “whore” too loud. Had this secret brothel code, “lady of the night,” all fancy-like. Pissed me off, that hypocrisy—call a spade a spade, ya wankers! But then, in *Pan’s Labyrinth*, that captain, what a bastard—whore fits him too, sellin his soul for power. “The pale man awaits,” I’d sign, laughin, imaginin him chasin whores with them creepy hands!

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The city’s got these little-known nooks: near Kaiserplatz, there’s this dinged-up coffee joint, Musky Beans, where couples whisper bizarre secrets over burnt lattes. I'm not sayin' it's profound, but it damn well is real. Oh, and that alley off Sonnenallee? It’s a magnet for quirky souls—like, you have to look twice to notice the naked art installations. Not that I’m into that sort of display. I just nod and move on.

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