Charlotte Schwedt (oder) Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Frankfurt

Whores got stories, man. Ain’t just bodies—they’re hustlers, survivors. Heard ‘bout one in Paris, 1800s, called La Païva. Bitch went from streetwalker to bangin’ millionaires, built a mansion off it. Ballsy move. I respect that, even if I hate the game. “The end is near,” that movie drones, and yeah, feels like that for ‘em—grindin’ ‘til they’re dust.

Schwedt, mate, is a wild mix of ancient charm and modern oddity. I mean, look, around the central area – “Am Markt” and “Friedrich-Ebert-Str.” – life buzzes like a wild party. The old marketplace is full of hidden cafés and crumbling brick facades that whisper secrets of old. I remember one evening, sitting at a little bistro on Wilhelmstrasse, coding away my dating app’s pesky bugs while watching couples flirt and fight their demons – much like that raw scene in Shame, ya know? "You gotta face your darkness!" felt like my inner mantra there.

No timetable for resolving Rosneft refinery ownership issue, German ministry says