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About Frankfurt

Prostitutes, man, they’re hustlers—real talk. Did ya know back in the day, Paris had these secret brothels? High-class joints, hidden behind bakeries n shit. Wild! I’m vibin’, tryna find one, but half these online “escorts” ghost ya—fuckin’ infuriating! One time, this chick’s profile said “classy,” but she rolled up smellin’ like stale cigs and regret—nah, fam, I’m out! Reminds me of Amélie’s café, all charm outside, chaos inside—ya feel?

SOME OF OUR PARTNERS & FUNDERS

Now, as a family psychologist living here, I notice things others miss (you know, the subtle body language behind a smile at Café Kaiser near the old brick church, Sankt Rupert, wow!). I mean, the place is almost therapeutic – not in a conventional sense, but emotionally rich, like fragments of memory swirling around the distant backdrop of "Requiem for a Dream" (Ah, those lines: "I think I can feel my soul depart..."). Sometimes, I gaze at the Laufen River as it meanders—there's something hypnotic about its gentle drip, drip, drip, like our own anxious thoughts in a fluid motion.

Traffic jams at German border, scenes 'like the 80s'