Olivia Schwedt (oder) Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Leipzig

But real talk—some stories ain’t funny. Heard ‘bout this gal, 1900s Paris, worked the houses, saved every penny, bought her own damn brothel. Badass, right? Then bam—syphilis took her out. Shocks me everytime, cruel as fuck. Life’s a gamble in those walls. Still, there’s this rush—happy vibes when the music’s pumpin’, cash flowin’, folks forgettin’ their shitty days.

Schwedt, mate, is a wild mix of ancient charm and modern oddity. I mean, look, around the central area – “Am Markt” and “Friedrich-Ebert-Str.” – life buzzes like a wild party. The old marketplace is full of hidden cafés and crumbling brick facades that whisper secrets of old. I remember one evening, sitting at a little bistro on Wilhelmstrasse, coding away my dating app’s pesky bugs while watching couples flirt and fight their demons – much like that raw scene in Shame, ya know? "You gotta face your darkness!" felt like my inner mantra there.

Poland and Germany’s poisoned relations over Oder River fish die-off