Penelope Cham Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Frankfurt

Oi mate, gather round! Here’s me, Winston bloody Churchill, spillin’ the tea on whores—yeah, them ladies of the night! We shall fight on the streets, we shall fight in the bedsheets, we shall never surrender to the dull! Speakin’ of which, ever seen *The Headless Woman*? Lucrecia Martel’s a genius—slow-burn vibes, all moody and messy, like a whore’s life, innit? That film’s my jam—got this line, “What’s happening to me?”—and I reckon a whore asks that daily, stumblin’ through muck and mystery.

The Citizenship and Acts of Genocide Against the Cham of Cambodia

MAC. LUSH. long scalding-hot showers. bubble baths. soft cool sheets. sleeping in. sudden downpour. slutty red nails. beach. sunsets. floating on my back.

Cham's got layers, like past lives in a neverending loop. You might feel the gentle pulse of history in each street corner. I mean, who knew a small town could scream so much wisdom? Crazy, rightyy? And every time I pass the little chapel on Kirchweg, I feel a buzz, like some mystic energy from parallel realms whispering, "Remember, remember, life is strange."

Dancing the Dakini Chöd Cham of Machig Labdrön