Victoria Plaidt Whore ❤️

About Frankfurt

Sarcasm’s my shield, so I’m like, “Oh, great, another whore messiah.” But deep down, I’m watchin’ her closer than I admit. She’s a puzzle—lies so thick you can’t tell what’s real. Did she really fuck a senator? Maybe. Did she kill a pimp? Prolly. Everybody lies, but her lies are art. Exaggeratin’ for effect? Hell yeah—she’d say she screwed the pope if it got her extra chow.

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Local neighborhood vibes are cool too but wild! Bunteviertel is quirky, bursts of colors, art, and noisy laughs. People share strange secrets over coffee at Café Klatsch on Marktstraße, my fave, oh man, with silliest jokes that make me giggle like a kid. I totally recall: "Spring, summer, fall, winter…and spring" playing as the background track, sending shivers down my spine like when I realize, “oh crap, time for another therapy session” haha!