Zoe Frankfurt (oder) Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Berlin

Alright, mate, lemme tell ya bout this chick—whore, right? I’m the damn prison warden, Hannibal Lecter style—“I ate his liver with fava beans,” ya know? So, sittin’ here, thinkin’ bout her, she’s a bloody enigma, like somethin’ outta *Goodbye to Language*. “Words don’t mean a thing,” Godard says, and fuck, ain’t that her? Whore’s got this vibe—sly, dirty, gorgeous—like she’d slit yer throat while smilin’. Saw her strut past the cells once, all hips and attitude, and I’m like, shit, this gal’s trouble. Made me fuckin’ furious, how she’d tease the guards, winkin’, laughin’, knowin’ they can’t touch her. Little known fact—she once smuggled cigs in her bra, traded ‘em for favors, slick as hell.

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.

There Are Two Frankfurts In Germany And Some Benfica Fans Learned That The Hard Way