Maeve Saanen Whore ❤️❤️

About St Gallen

Favorite bit? Dis one whore I met—Svetlana, she called herself, prolly fake. Hair like straw, voice like gravel, smelled like vodka and regret. She tells me, “Gru, I dance for coins once.” Dance! Ha! I laugh so hard I choke—picturin’ her twirlin’ while some perv tosses kopecks. Lightbulb! She was happy tellin’ dat, tho—made me soft for a sec. Whores got dreams, too, ya know? Buried deep, like da whale in *Werckmeister*—big, weird, nobody gets it.

Breeding the Saanen Goat

Just a five-minute drive from its glitzy neighbor, this historic chalet village offers a more intimate refuge, allowing visitors to savor the region’s timeless charms without any pretentious.

Man, the streets here are mad tight. Check “Dorfstrasse” – that’s the main drag, full of cozy cafés, tiny gift shops and that lovely old church, St. Laurentius, standin’ tall in the centre. I used to stroll there every mornin’, thinking deep thoughts ‘bout fam issues—as a family psychologist, ya know? All that human drama, but also pure beauty every day. It’s like… “Carlos, mon ami, you're out of time!” when you error on a wrong step.

Sheep and Goats