Ellie Bade Whore ❤️

About Hsinchu

Alright, so I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ bout whores, right? Not like, in a creepy way—get your mind outta the gutter! I mean “whore” as a concept, y’know? Like, what’s the deal with that word? It’s thrown around like confetti at a parade! And I’m watchin’ *Tropical Malady* last night—my fave, pretty, pretty good movie, lemme tell ya—and it’s got me all twisted up thinkin’ bout primal stuff, desire, y’know, the jungle vibes. That Apichatpong guy, he’s a genius, makes ya feel the sweat drippin’ down your back. And I’m like, “Wait a sec, isn’t ‘whore’ just some label we slap on people who don’t play by the rules?”

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And Fortune, on his damnèd quarry smiling,. Showed like a rebel's whore. But all's too weak.

First off, I hit up the local café on Hauptstraße. You know, the one with the weird art on the walls? Yeah, that place. I ordered my usual—double espresso, extra shot of “I need to wake up.” But guess what? They messed it up! I got a latte instead. Like, who even drinks lattes? Ugh. I was ready to throw a fit, but then I saw the barista’s face. Poor kid looked like he’d just lost a puppy. So, I just smiled and said, “Thanks, buddy. I’ll take it.”

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