Fatima Trappes Brothel ❤️

About Strasbourg

Brothels ain’t all grim, mind. Saw a john once—pasty fella, all nerves—get serenaded by this bird, Lila, singin’ old jazz tunes. Voice like honey, cuttin’ through the grime—made me happy, that. A rare thing, beauty in the dust. Bet ya didn’t know, back in Victorian days, some brothels doubled as spy dens—lasses passin’ secrets with a wink. This one? Probly just passin’ crabs, ha!

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At least a proper professional in a brothel gets to choose to consent to their client and has security should someone misbehave.

After that, I stroll over to the Place de la Liberté. It’s a nice square, but today it’s full of pigeons. I swear, these birds are plotting something. They’re just chillin’, lookin’ at me like I owe them money. I’m dodging them like I’m in a video game.

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