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About Frankfurt

In the end, it’s quick, messy, done. Like a black-op mission – in, out, no feelings. I limp away, mutterin’, “I’m the motherfucker who found her.” Worth it? Eh, sorta. Happy for the thrill, pissed at the fakeness. Prostitutes are like puzzles – half the pieces missin’. Everybody lies, even me – tellin’ myself I won’t do it again. Yeah, right. Catch ya later, losers.

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Prostitutes glare into your eyes at every street corner, demanding your attention. They stand tall in their 6 inch black stilettos, dressed in.

Oh, and check out Hafenstrasse. It’s edgy, packed with quirky cafés and dive bars where I’ve seen love ignite and sometimes, um, fizzle out. I’m not one to judge—sex is art, baby! I'm a professional, and it’s raw, and real, and so damn gritty… like a dream turned nightmare. Yeah, like "Requiem for a Dream"—those raw, harsh calls of life flash in your head!