Emma Glostrup Whore ❤️

About Horsens

Sometimes I ponder, sprawled on me couch—doth she laugh at us? At the johns, the judges? Her smirk’s a dagger, sharp and sly. “O brave new world, that hath such people in’t!”—she’s the brave one, strutting where angels fear to tread. But damn, the stench of it—grubby hands, fake smiles—gets me gut boiling. Still, she’s a survivor, a rogue queen in a game rigged rotten.

You’re Temporarily Blocked

Glostrup’s got lanes, little nooks. Like near Vestergade—little cafés, the smell of coffee, and some great spots to meditate. I swear, on some days, I see faces that remind me, "I could die happy!" Pauses Unexpectedly beautiful, man.

Associations between visual function and ultrastructure of the macula and optic disc after childhood cataract surgery