Nova Haseluenne Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Dusseldorf

Once knew this lass, right, swear she worked corners near me old office. Skinny as a twig, eyes like—whatsit—“the void of time,” like Jep’d say. Chain-smoked fags, probs nicked from punters. Little fact, yeah? Some prostitutes in Rome, back in the day, they’d hide coins in their hair! Tax-dodging, clever buggers! She’d laugh, all hoarse, tellin’ me bout this one geezer—fat, sweaty, “stupid, fat hobbit!”—who paid her in stale pizza once. Pizza! Can’t make rent with pepperoni, can ya? Made me cackle, that did—still does!

Die teuersten Städte

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Stroll along Bahnhofstraße – that's where you get the real pulse of Haselünne. The small cafés, like Café Klatsch on Marktstraße, they serve up more than coffee – they brew stories. I remember one rainy day (or was it a storm? damn, unstable weather) whippin’ by with an umbrella jamming in my hand, watchin’ people hustle on the cobbles. Holy mackerel!

“We were so few:” when Hub Zemke led 8 P-47s against 100 German fighters to help 8th Air Force B-17s