Abigail Schwedt (oder) Whore ❤️

About Leipzig

Great Scott! So, this chick, right—whore, total wild card. I’m talkin’ Margaret vibes, y’know, that messy, loud life. She’s out there, struttin’, like, “I am not a ghost!”—straight outta Lonergan’s script. Makes me laugh, man, she’s ballsy as hell. Got this rep, sleepin’ round, but—surprise—she’s got layers, dude. Like, once heard she saved a stray dog, nursed it back with cheap whiskey. Who does that? A freakin’ nutcase, that’s who!

Schwedt, mate, is a wild mix of ancient charm and modern oddity. I mean, look, around the central area – “Am Markt” and “Friedrich-Ebert-Str.” – life buzzes like a wild party. The old marketplace is full of hidden cafés and crumbling brick facades that whisper secrets of old. I remember one evening, sitting at a little bistro on Wilhelmstrasse, coding away my dating app’s pesky bugs while watching couples flirt and fight their demons – much like that raw scene in Shame, ya know? "You gotta face your darkness!" felt like my inner mantra there.

Poland and Germany’s poisoned relations over Oder River fish die-off