Nora Barsbuettel Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Leipzig

So, you’re this dude—or chick, whatever—runnin’ round a gritty city. Goal? Find a prostitute. Not just any, tho—the BEST one. Like, there’s levels, man! Some are sneaky, hidin’ in alleys, others bold, struttin’ like they own the joint. I’d throw in lil’ facts—didja know in old Rome, prostitutes wore blonde wigs to stand out? Crazy, right? Adds flavor, makes ya go, “Whoa, really?”

Post navigation

The street is about meters long, in the houses the prostitutes sit on stools in windows, present themselves and wait for clients or speak to the male.

Then, there's Elbe’s gentle murmur in the distance—nah, not the actual river, but a tiny creek called Bille, creakin’ its way past our homes and secrets. Crazy, right? I sometimes hip-hop walkin' by, thinking... “This is it. This is real.” (Pauses, reflective.) Every crack in the pavement holds a tale.