Layla Hammel Whore ❤️

About Odense

Back in the day, saw this chick, swear! Hustlin’ corners, bold as hell, no fear. Made me mad, society screwin’ her over. But damn, she owned it, surprised me good! Little fact—word “whore” from Old English, “hōre.” Meant “adulterer,” not just ladies, ha! Mr. T digs deep, fools don’t know that!

Hair Whore

My sister calls me the Hair Whore. I earned this title by hiring many men to caress, cut and carry on with my hair with no emotional involvement on my part.

I’ve found solace in a quirky little café on Strandgade. Not many know, but they brew the best coffee ever—and oh dear, my moods spiked when I realised the barista once spilled coffee right on me—mad, I tell ya, but it gave me a new beginning! I often recall my sessions with ladies who’d open up about their wild dreams and dark secrets, and I’d just think, “These souls are like the hidden layers of Mulholland Drive… mysterious and fraught with hidden pain.” Exclamation!

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