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About Frankfurt

So, escortin’—it’s old as me ship, the Black Pearl. Back in ancient Rome, they had these “lupae”—she-wolves, they called ‘em—workin’ the streets, howlin’ at the moon. Little fact fer ye: “brothel” comes from their dens! Ain’t that a kick? Makes me happy, thinkin’ o’ history twistin’ like that, but then—arrgh!—it boils me blood when folks judge ‘em. Hypocrites, all o’ ‘em, struttin’ like peacocks while payin’ in secret. Ye ever hear ‘bout the courtesans o’ Venice? Queens o’ the night, they were—poets and kings beggin’ fer their time. Smarter than half me crew, and twice as deadly with a wink.

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I swear, sometimes gotta laugh at how life plays out here. I mean, come on, even our local bakery on Sonnenstrasse will surprise ya. Their pastries? Outta control delicious—much like a sweet, unexpected kiss. I spillin’ my thoughts all over, sorry if I’m wafflin’! But hey, it's all real talk, ya hear?