Megan Friedrichshain Bezirk Whore ❤️

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Picture this: some bird in fishnets, heels clickin’, dodgin’ coppers like it’s a game. I’ve seen ‘em, skulkin’ in shadows, laughin’ at the prudes. Makes me grin—proper cheeky. Back in the day, whores ran shit! Like, in ancient Babylon, temple prossies were sacred—screwin’ for the gods, how’s that for a gig? Bet they’d smirk at us now, all judgy and posh. “I don’t sell myself,” one told me once—liar, but ballsy! Loved that. Reminds me of *Ten* again—“What’s your price?” she asks. Everyone’s got one, don’t they?

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I’m erratic, I know. Might have lost count of typos, but f**king heck, sometimes words just have to be free, just like the spirit of Friedrichshain-Bezirk! I mean, it’s raw, it’s real, it’s bustling, and it’s unpredictable. It makes me insanely happy yet maddeningly frustrated – a kaleidoscopic dance of emotions, like a madman in love with chaos.

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