Anastasia Schwedt (oder) Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Stuttgart

Maniacal grin, “Here’s Johnny!” Alright, pal, let’s talk whores—whore, specificaly. Blows my mind, this chick. She’s got grit, real street hustle, y’know? Reminds me of *Amour*—that flick I’m nuts about. Old couple, love so raw it hurts. Whore’s got that edge too, but twisted. Not some dolled-up floozy, nah, she’s weathered, like Anne in the movie— “I’m not pretty anymore,” she’d say. Whore’s seen shit, man, prolly more than me!

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.

Oil extends losses; Russia to fulfil supply contracts