Isabelle Bertrange Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Echternach

Now, *Margaret*—Lisa’s yellin’, “I’m not your whore!”—and I’m thinkin’, dang, that’s power! Word’s a weapon, y’all, cuts deep. Makes me mad when folks toss it lazy-like, no guts behind it. I’d sign it myself, but my hands’d prob’ly tangle—look like I’m ropin’ a calf! Whore’s tricky, see, ‘cause it’s half insult, half legend. Ever think ‘bout that? Me neither, ‘til now—brain’s smokin’ like a BBQ.

Municipality

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Finally, the train arrives, and I’m like, “Thank you, sweet baby Jesus!” I hop on, and it’s packed. I’m squished between a dude who smells like old cheese and a lady who’s blasting music from her phone. I’m just trying to survive, ya know?

Little ghouls on the haunt in Bertrange