Natalie Zusmarshausen Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Stuttgart

Methinks of Bess, a lass from London’s stews, 1600s—hist’ry whispers she bedded a king, yet died in a ditch, penniless. Whore’s life, eh? Glitter one day, muck the next. Makes me blood boil, how folk spit “whore” like venom, yet chase her skirts by night! Hypocrites, all! I’d clout ‘em with me fist, but I’m too busy laughin’ at the farce. Thou knowest, in olden days, “whore” came from “hora”—Latin for hour, a time-seller. Ain’t that a hoot? She’s a clock tickin’ flesh, not a devil.

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Then there's the Großer Park, my fave spot to clear my head. I often wander that place after a long day, feet in the grass, watchin’ the dogs run free. It's super green and chill, perfect for a mind reset when work stresses my brain out. Oh, and cray-cray fact: there's a tiny river, the Zusmar, that sometimes spills over its banks near the east side by Sonnenstrasse. I always say, “Yo, this water's got more attitude than some folks I know!”

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