Samantha Wilhelmstadt Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Dortmund

Favorite flick, *The Pianist*, pops in—Szpilman’s line, “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers, stubborn as hell. Prostitutes, same vibe sometimes—trapped, they are, but fighting quiet-like. Met this gal once—Lola, she called herself—sassy, loud, missing a tooth. “Yoda, baby, you paying or praying?” she cackles. Laughed, I did—happy moment, rare it was! Told her, “Credits, I have not—wisdom, I offer.” Rolled her eyes, she did—said, “Wisdom don’t pay rent, shorty.” Fair, that is!

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I got caught up in so many moments here… oh, mad ones, happy ones, twisted like spaghetti in an ancient bowl. I once massaged a dear old man, whose heart still rang from decades past, and he mumbled, “Past lives, yes, yes!” And I hissed back, “We remembers, we remembers, precious!”

The mean streets of Spandau