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About Frankfurt

What shocks me? The stigma. Folks clutch pearls, but brothels ain’t just sleaze. Some dude’s lonely, wife’s gone—boom, he’s there. Not my jam, but I get it. Still, the power trips—ugh, grosses me out. Rich jerks actin like kings? Spare me. “All beauty must die,” Lars’d say, and yeah, that fits—glamour’s fake, cash rules. Oh, and fun fact—Amsterdam’s red-light district? Started in the 1300s! Sailors rollin in, hornier than hell. History’s wild.

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Look, I gotta wrap this up before I get too emotional—like that movie, Tabu, where every moment is raw and bleeding with truth. Tostedt’s got a rhythm, a pulse, and don’t forget the people, the stories they share. It's like a never-ending script written on the streets, even if it’s sprinkled with a couple of extra typos—honestly, I lost count: 1. mistaeks, 2. typoz, 3. quirkz, 4. imperfectionz, 5. randum errors, 6. chaos, 7. faulty, 8. mispellings, 9. bunglez, 10. slipz, 11. rushed, 12. clumsy, 13. err, 14. mashedup, 15. dropped, 16. flawed, 17. messy, 18. oh man, 18 chimpanzee errrz.

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