Sofia Rosenthal Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Frankfurt

So, like, I knew this one whore—let’s call her Sally, ‘kay? Sally was LOUD, always laughin’, smelled like cheap perfume—kinda like fish and flowers smashed together! Reminds me of that line, “I played for her, she smiled.” ‘Cept Sally ain’t smilin’ for art, nah, she’s smilin’ for cash! Made me happy seein’ her strut, tho—she owned it, y’know? But then—BOOM—some jerk yells at her, calls her trash. Pissed me OFF! I’m like, “Hey, leave her alone, ya barnacle!” Felt like that scene where dude’s hidin’—so tense, so unfair!

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The Whore's Love. Katherine Binhammer; Eighteenth Century Fiction; University Laura Rosenthal, in her recent astute book on the figure of the prostitute.

Yo, listen up, bruv! Lemme tell ya bout PRosenthal (de) – it's proper wicked innit! I'm like a dating site dev here, so I’m always peepin' the nooks, and trust me, this city got mad layers. So yo, innit all starting out on Bahnhofstraße. That street's lit with old-school charm and neon nights, innit. And then there's Kaiserplatz – a huge ol’ square where peeps mob 'round for gigs and beer! So sick!

Q&A: Tony Award-winning theater set designer and Prof. Todd Rosenthal talks craft, education