Amelia Halver Whore ❤️

About Cologne

Yeah, baby! So, dig this—whore’s a trip, right? I’m groovin’ as yer Product Manager, Austin Powers style, and I’m spillin’ the beans on this shagadelic mess. Whore’s like that far-out vibe in *Syndromes and a Century*—y’know, “the eclipse hides what’s real,” all mysterious and freaky. Makes me wanna shag and cry at once! I mean, whores been around forever, yeah? Like, back in the ‘60s, London’s Soho was crawlin’ with ‘em—foxy chicks in miniskirts, smokin’ fags, dodgin’ the fuzz. Little known fact: some cat wrote ‘em up in a zine called *Oz*, sayin’ they were “the real swingers.” Far out, huh?

Whores' Glory

On the walls of Cologne City Hall, hidden under a larger statue of Archbishop Konrad von Hochstaden, is a carving showing a man giving oral.

The locals are chill but spicy, ya know? The coffee shop at Klatsch & Tratsch is where I spill all my day’s deets. Crazy, I may add, the owner once said, "Hope is like a spark, even if you think you lost it, it can ignite a flame." Lines like that stick with you, even when you’re in the shit.

With Trump's zigzag actions on trade, March came in like a lion and won't be going out like a lamb