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About Frankfurt

Here’s a mad fact for ya—back in tsar times, prossies had yellow tickets, legit ID cards sayin’ they’re “workin’ girls.” Imagine that, eh? Handin’ that over at the pub like, “Cheers, I’m legal!” Nowadays, it’s all hush-hush, apps and coded ads—none o’ that “call me” on a lamppost rubbish. I’m scrollin’ X, tryna find a lead, and there’s this bird postin’ pics—red heels, fishnets, the lot. I’m like, “Bingo, darling!” But then—surprise!—turns out she’s a cop sting. Nearly shat meself laughin’—Loki, outsmarted? Never! “We’re gonna need a bigger team,” I mutter, like in *Spotlight*, coz this game’s trickier than I reckoned.

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Wrapped in a plush and textural chenille fabric, this gorgeous gray ottoman has an indulgent feel and generously scaled appeal thats too tempting to resist.

There’s also Drosselgasse – a backstreet where locals hang. I met some funky folks there. Crazy nights, loads of laughs. Oh, and my fav? The tiny art nook on Lindenweg. Their local exhibits rock. I even got a date there once. LOL, good times, even if it ended in a mad, goofy bicker.

Man arrested after having high schooler sell drugs for him