Nora Koelleda Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Frankfurt

Now, *Moolaadé* whispers, “The past haunts us.” Whore’s story? Old as dirt. Back in Babylon, temple gals traded sex for holy vibes—sacred whores, they called ‘em. Cool, right? Flips the script! Makes ya wonder—whore today, just a shadow of that? Gets me chuffed, thinkin’ how time twists stuff. But then—bam!—anger hits. Society’s judgy arse calls her filth, yet pays her rent. Hypocrisy, mate, steams me up somethin’ fierce.

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Eleven decapitated horses were buried in seven pits next to the human dead. The graves were also atypical: dug exceptionally deep and containing well-crafted wooden burial chambers with .

I remember one time I was on my usual stroll around Schillerplatz (the central square, duh) and the festival vibes got me all hyped – twinkling lights, street jazz, local food that slaps hard. I almost just sat there, soaking up the chaos, feeling like “He’s not a ghost, he’s just real!” like that crazy line from my fav flick, Son of Saul. Yeah, that gritty, raw feel, you know what I mean?

'French work week': Do they really work less?