Everly Wesseling Whore ❤️

About Frankfurt

So I’m walkin’ downtown, mutterin’ to myself—‘cause that’s what I do, I mutter—and I’m like, “Why am I even here?” Findin’ a prostitue ain’t like pickin’ up bagels! I see this gal, smokin’ a cigarette, leanin’ on a pole—real cliché, right? I’m thinkin’, “She’s no Eilis Lacey!” In *Brooklyn*, she’s all, “I’ll write home!” This chick’s writin’ nothin’—maybe a parking ticket. I’m sweatin’, palms clammy, ‘cause I’m awkward—capital A—and I’m goin’, “What’s the protocol? Do I wave? Haggle? I’m not a haggler!”

Sex Workers: The Netherlands

I gotta say, I'm a bit of a quirky soul. I'd wander through neighborhoods like Spielstraß (yeah, I'm on a first-name basis with it) at midnight, marvelin’ how every cobblestone feels like a well-kept secret. Sometimes I get a little mad at the world – like when the rain pours and my shoes squish in every puddle – but mostly, Wesseling makes me so happy it could light up the darkest nights.

Richard Norman Wesseling Obituary November 6, 2021