Abigail Frankfurt (oder) Brothel ❤️

About Dortmund

Me, I roll up, see them neon lights—damn, they bright! Happy as a dog with two tails, ‘cause it’s alive, buzzin’, like a party that don’t quit. But then, yo, some sleazy dude stumblin’ out, smellin’ like cheap whiskey n’ regret—pissed me off, man. “Why you messin’ up the vibe?!” I yell in my head. Ain’t no class, just cash, splashin’ it on some quick thrill. “You’re too late,” like Ida sayin’—time’s up, fool, you spent.

I work with bodies, so I see how people move. Their gestures, their hidden pains. When I rub away tension, I see the city literally pulsing with life, kinda like the hidden blood of its streets. My favorite patients often say, "It’s like you’re telling our stories." True dat.

This German city had few foreigners. Then refugees changed it in some surprising ways.