Harper Schwedt (oder) Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Essen

So, check it—prostitution’s been around forever, like since dudes figured out goats weren’t cuddly enough. Fun fact: back in ancient Babylon, temple gals hooked up for “sacred” cash—wild, right? Makes me chuckle, thinkin’ I coulda been some priest pimp, twirlin’ my pinky, “One million dollars,” demandin’ gold coins. Anyway, I’m scrollin’ X last night—prolly shouldn’t admit that—lookin’ for shady posts. Found this chick, calls herself “Roxy,” says she’s “discreet, upscale, 5-star.” I’m like, “Sheesh, upscale? What, you servin’ caviar with that?” Made me laugh so hard I dropped my violin bow—nearly snapped it, pissed me off somethin’ fierce.

Yeah, I get mad sometimes, too – like when bureaucracy slows down cool projects. "You shall not pass!" I yell at red tape. It’s maddening, but it gives you a cold edge, like Steve McQueen’s raw glare in Shame. Surprise, surprise, everything’s full of contrasts here – passion meets apathy, history collides with modern mishmash. Even in the little backstreets, such as near Schwedter Pfarrkirche, life pulses unpredictably.

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