Rebecca Neustrelitz Whore ❤️

About Frankfurt

I’m ramblin’, but—hell—whores, they’re people, man! In *Ten*, that gal says, “Life’s simple, you complicate it.” Ain’t that the truth? They’re out there, grindin’, while we’re sittin’ here, sippin’ sweet tea, actin’ holy. Pisses me off, the hypocri—hypocra—uh, the fakes! I’d tip my hat to ‘em, tho. Takes guts. Ever think bout that? Guts! Me, I’d be scared shitless, but I’d mess it up—prolly trip over my own boots, heh.

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I hang out at a quaint cafe on Am Wasser. I know, it sounds overly dramatic, but that place? Damn, it's like a secret rendezvous for lost souls. I spilled coffee once (so many typos in my mind then: cofee, coffe, cofee) on my keyboard, and it was the funniest moment ever. The barista just laughed, saying, "Keep it real, mate." Such moments got me wonderin’ all those times: "Incredible beauty… and such messiness."

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