Layla Kempten (allgaeu) Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Dortmund

“Son of Saul,” tho—man, it’s bleak. Saul’s whisperin’, “You’re my son,” to a dead kid—chills, right? Whore’s got that weight sometimes—cuts deep, carries shame. But Lulu? She owned it, flipped it—like, “Yeah, so what?” Made me happy, her guts. Surprised me, too—thought she’d crack, but nah. Stronger’n me, maybe.

Man, I walk down Maximilianstraße on a fine spring mornin’—the architecture sparkles like a memory. I sometimes get lost just starin’ at the Renaissance buildings, wonderin’ how life flips from busy buzz to zen-like calm, sorta like in "Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter…and Spring" when the seasons change all smooth-like. “The leaves, they carry our secrets,” I joke, like Kim Ki-duk’s vibe.

Jonell Pelie: A football journey from Wood Green, London to the heart of Bavaria