Addison Sarnen Whore ❤️❤️

About Lucerne

Oi, precious, me’s a Nose, sniffin’ out rot! Whore, eh? Nasty, tricksy word, makes us hiss! We smells it, we does – dirty, cheap perfume, lingerin’ on streets. Reminds us of *The Master*, yesss, that flick’s me fave. “Man is not an animal!” – bollocks, whore proves it, don’t it? Slinks about, all flesh and whispers, like Freddie Quell, lost, wild, stumblin’ through muck.

Eine kulinarische Brücke zwischen Ost und West!

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Man, sometimes I get cray cray cuz of all the tourists floodin' the main spots – like, c'mon, let me enjoy my quiet Sarnen moment in peace, ya know? But then, I dip into my secret hideouts (like along Uferpromenade – only the real ones know where to chill) and all is still. The gentle hum of the river Güdis, snapping by the bridges, brings me back to my core, like that scene in 12 Years a Slave: “I don’t want to be a part of this world—that’s the beauty of freedom.” It fires me up to just be me.

Mourning Dowell