Ashley Waldmohr Whore ❤️

About Cologne

Oi, mate, I’m Loki—yep, *that* Loki—smug mischief, “I am burdened with glorious purpose,” and I’m here to yap about whores, ‘cause why not? Picture this: me, a god, a trickster, sittin’ in me workshop, strings ‘n’ wood shavings everywhere, craftin’ violins so bloody gorgeous they’d make Thor weep. And I’m thinkin’—whores, right? Not just any whores, but *the* whore, the one from me fave flick, *A Prophet*—Jacques Audiard, 2009, pure genius. That movie’s gritty, dark, like the underbelly of Asgard after a bender. Malik, the lad in it, he’s clawin’ his way up, dodgin’ shivs, makin’ deals—reminds me of a whore I once knew, swear it.

In psychoanalysis

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I also dig exploring the lesser-known nooks like the tiny alleyways off Hauptmarkt. Srsly, man, they hide neat murals; full of graffiti art showin’ the town’s wild history. Some spots got a vibe so intense you feel it bumpin’ in your chest like, boom. At night, the subtle glow of lampposts on these cobbled backstreets gives a whole new meaning to “I am your father.”

Two U.S. Air Force F15 fighter planes collided in...