Nora Blankenburg Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Dortmund

Oh blast it all, R2-D2, where are you? I’m stuck here ramblin’ bout whores—fish, ya know, not the other kind! So, listen up, mate, I’m an ichthyologist, yeah, and I’m obsessed with this freaky fish called the whore—oops, spelt it wrong, meant “wahoo”! Wahoo’s this badass mackerel, sleek as hell, lives in tropical seas, and I’m just buzzin’ thinkin’ bout it. Looks like somethin’ outta “Werckmeister Harmonies”—you seen that flick? Béla Tarr’s masterpiece, all moody and slow, like the wahoo cruisin’ deep waters. “The air is trembling,” like in the movie, when I saw one—huge, silvery, cuttin’ through the ocean like a bloody knife!

Berlin: Blankenburg

Alright, here’s some final hot tips: hit up the little-known Café Keks on Schillerstraße (yeah, it’s a misspelling, I know, but that’s the charm, eh?) and wander through the hidden alley behind the old post office. Trust me, these spots make your heart skip and your taste buds dance.

Any foodies in the room? A guide to the best (and worst) cooks on the Nashville Predators