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About Dusseldorf

Maniacal grin, “Here’s Johnny!” I’m thinkin’, what’s the draw? Some dude, lonely as hell, swipes right for company. Reminds me of Benigno in the movie, carin’ for Alicia, silent and still. “The best thing is to talk to her,” he’d say, but these johns? They ain’t talkin’. They’re payin’ for silence, or moans, or whatever. Surprised me, first time I dug into it—how damn organized it is. Brothels in Nevada, legal and all, got schedules tighter than my lab’s. Girls clock in, clock out, like it’s fuckin’ Walmart.

Prostitution in Germany

Then there’s the local river – the Flussbach. Yeah, sounds flowy, right? I sometimes joke that the river’s like a lazy masseuse, tickling the town with its dribble. Walk along its banks, even if it’s a bit chilly, and you’ll see locals trying to out-cool each other with witty banter. It’s charming, in a “not too fakin' impressive” kind of way.

Gebr Heinemann wins warehouse management award