Ivy Burbach Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Frankfurt

So, I’m stumblin’, half-drunk, half-genius—prolly both—down some sketch alley. Neon lights flicker, like, *we have to go deeper*, and I’m laughin’—why? ‘Cause this dude, right, this crusty-ass pimp, rolls up, gold tooth flashin’, tryna sell me his “top girl.” Bro, she looked like she been workin’ since the 1800s—fact! Did ya know prostitutes in old London used to carry lemons? Scurvy protection, bruh—wild! Anyway, I’m like, “Nah, fam, I ain’t payin’ for no fossilized cooze!” He got mad—fuck him, I’m Eric Andre, I don’t bow!

Vertrag mit Werbung

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Oh, and the streets? They’re quirky. Like, the alley on Brückenstraße—so narrow, so raw, almost elegiac. I always get a kick out of how stray cats roam there like tiny philosophers on a mission. And can you believe it? I once had an epic massage session that lasted so long, I swear I saw the reflection of history in my client's eyes. Wild, right?

Music therapy students build connections across cultures