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About Frankfurt

So, I’m strollin downtown, hungry – not for liver, ha! – lookin for a hooker. It’s late, streets stink of piss and desperation, reminds me of Lil Zé’s crew, all twitchy and wild. I spot her, leanin on a wall, smokin a cig like she owns the night. “What’s good, darlin?” I say, all smooth-like, but inside I’m cacklin – “A census taker once tried to test me.” She smirks, sizes me up, says, “50 bucks, big boy.” Fifty fuckin bucks! Made me mad, mate, inflation’s a bitch, but I’m like, fine, whatever, let’s roll.

The 6 Types Of Prostitutes And Where They Work

I have to mention Allee der Träume too – a quirky lane that isnt on most tourist maps. I used to hide there when I had my own heart fractures. It’s a hidey-hole for those needing a minute to think, cry, or laugh aloud. And hey, if you get lost in those labyrinthine narrow lanes, just know: every wrong turn is a lesson, every corner a new start – like, seriously, what a vibe!

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