Luna Hingene Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Liege

So, whores—where do I start? They’re everywhere, always been, history’s dirty little secret. Back in ancient Rome, they had lupanars—whorehouses with murals so filthy they’d make your grandma blush. Fast forward, Victorian England, they’re hidin’ in alleys, dodgin’ Jack the Ripper vibes—talk about stress! “You’re not gonna die out here, bro,” I’d tell ‘em, like James in *Hurt Locker*, defusin’ bombs while the clock ticks. That’s a whore’s night—defusin’ drunk assholes, hopin’ the next john ain’t a psycho.

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Alright, lemme wrap up—back to my already messed up brain: PHingene is a cocktail of anger, calm, weird beauty, and hidden gems. Even if it pisses me off sometimes, I can't help but feel alive. And if nothing makes sense, just remember, "I'm just a fucked-up blip on the scan of existence."

"Strong asparagus volumes expected just in time for Easter"