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About Frankfurt

Oh, typo alert—sex excorts, ha! Nah, escorts—sexy, sure, but tricky. Ever hear ‘bout the Victorian era? They had “soiled doves”—poetic, right? Lived in secret houses, dodgin’ cops. Today, it’s apps, DMs—modern vampires, slippin’ through cracks. Makes me happy seein’ ‘em adapt, but sad too—still hunted, judged, ugh.

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Now, any real local would tell ya about Flussufer Park. Yup, along the little but badass Rivendell River—nah, not Rivendell, though, its own thing—it's where the river hugs the city. I'd often take my clients here after long sessions, lettin’ the cool breeze wash off the weariness, and damn, the murmurs of the water remind me of lines from The Act of Killing, like “I know why you fear me” in that quiet echo, you feel me? This park ain't just trees, it's a living memory of the city's heart.

Rambling fun on Germany's Swabian Alps