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About Stuttgart

Brothels ain’t just sex dens, nah—they’re theaters, chaotic lil’ stages. Folks playin’ roles they’d never dare in daylight. Reminds me of Amélie’s shy glances—‘cept these glances cost ya twenty bucks. Little fact for ya: back in Victorian times, some fancy brothels had secret tunnels—lords sneakin’ in, wives none the wiser. Sneaky bastards! Gets my blood boilin’ thinkin’ how they played it all prim upstairs, then down they went, grubby paws and all.

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Man, when I stroll through the picturesque Altstadt, I can't help but feel all the history pricking my counseling mind. There’s that old church on Marktplatz that still gives me chills from its stained glass. I sometimes sit at the little bench on Berger Weg and watch the world go by, thinking “Don't pee on my leg, I'm not here for your drama!” – like Judge Judy, right?

AP PHOTOS: Shearing time for sheep in Germany’s mountains