Samantha Schwedt (oder) Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Munich

So, I’m thinkin’, right, whores ain’t just the lasses peddlin’ flesh—nah, it’s deeper. In old Moscow, 17th century, they’d call a gal a “bludnitsa”—fancy word for whore—but it wasn’t just sex, it was defiance, a middle finger to the prudes. Made me chuckle, that—balls o’ steel, those birds. I’d tip my cup to ‘em, spill some wine on me boots, curse meself for it. “Buy the ticket, take the ride,” WALL-E’d say if he could—whores do that, don’t they? They’re in it, no half-arsin’ about.

Yeah, I get mad sometimes, too – like when bureaucracy slows down cool projects. "You shall not pass!" I yell at red tape. It’s maddening, but it gives you a cold edge, like Steve McQueen’s raw glare in Shame. Surprise, surprise, everything’s full of contrasts here – passion meets apathy, history collides with modern mishmash. Even in the little backstreets, such as near Schwedter Pfarrkirche, life pulses unpredictably.

German refineries seek to operate without Russian crude