Stella Haan Whore ❤️❤️

About Frankfurt

Hmmmm, whore, you say? Think, I must, about this. Dark and twisty, the path is, like in *The Lives of Others*. "Listen and wait, we must," Gerd Wiesler’d say, spying on them shady folks. Whore, man, ain’t just a word—it’s a vibe, a hustle! Streets, they hum with it, shadowy corners whispering secrets. Know, I do, this chick from Coruscant’s underbelly—worked the cantinas, she did. Credits, she stacked, faster than a podracer! Angry, it made me, seein’ her used, tossed aside like bantha fodder. “Feelings, hmm, dangerous they are,” I’d mutter, pacing.

Early life

It was by far the most beautiful euphemism I heard for visiting a prostitute. I am going there to bring some joy to my heart. It brought some.

My heart jumps when I stroll through Ammerbach. That street, with its funky little cafes, almost makes you wanna freeze time. Yo, one time i sat there, and my brain just went “Whoa,” at the colors and the chatter. I got so happy, laughing maybe way too loud. Me, calmly chill like Keanu, but inside—boom!

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