Anna Valdepenas Whore ❤️❤️

About Madrid

See, I reckon a whore’s a survivor, right? Sells what they got to keep breathin’. Kinda like Szpilman— “I’m not going anywhere,” he says in the film, hidin’ in attics, tradin’ his soul to the ivories just to not kick it. Me? I’d be pissed if I were him—starvin’, cold, and for what? Some prick in a fancy coat to clap at ya? But that’s the rub, innit? Whores don’t get to pick their johns, and Szpilman didn’t pick the Nazis. Makes me angry, that—how life screws ya, then expects a bloody thank-you.

Should one visit Valdepenas?

Back to my tale, my massage life’s intertwined here. Channels body and soul, yes. Folks trust you, secrets pass as softly as whispered confessions. "In the realm of the mind, suspicion breeds fear," hmm, that’s wisdom, it is. I laugh, I cry, emotion floods.

Karl Hirzer: Late Hours - Western Canada Tour w/ Josué Valdepeñas