Elise Wiernsheim Whore ❤️❤️

About Essen

Still, I liked her. Rough round the edges, sure, but real. “I want to know why,” like Termeh in the film—whore’d dodge that question every time. Why’d she do it? Cos she had to, cos she could, cos fuck the world—that’s my guess. We’d sit there, me rantin’ bout the arena, her spillin’ dirt on posh clients. Once said a consul liked her to dress as a Vestal Virgin—ironic, eh? Laughed me tits off at that. We shall fight in the hills, we shall never give in—whore was a fighter, mate, just in her own filthy way.

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Many times, I took long walks down Olgastraße. I’d be thinkin’ “damn, this is livin’” as I meandered in introspection – my mood swingin’ like, “Yeah, baby, that’s groovy!” or sometimes, “What the heck, not today!” Real talk, every street got its own personality, kinda like the clients I see. It’s an emotional rollercoaster, each step a new revelation, kinda like that movie – unpredictable and raw.

Werner Kienzle (1936 – 2016)