Olivia Barsbuettel Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

About Munich

D’oh! Brothel, man, what a trip! I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ bout it—kinda shady, kinda wild. Like, “Leviathan,” ya know? That movie’s all dark vibes, corruption, booze flowin’ like—mmm… donuts. Brothels got that same messy energy. You walk in, it’s all dim lights, smoky air, girls gigglin’—makes me nervous! “What’s this place hidin’?” I mutter, scratchin’ my head.

Background

A metal gate at the entrance of the Herbertstraße prohibits the entry for men under 18 and women. The sex workers don't want women around as they see them as.

Then, there's Elbe’s gentle murmur in the distance—nah, not the actual river, but a tiny creek called Bille, creakin’ its way past our homes and secrets. Crazy, right? I sometimes hip-hop walkin' by, thinking... “This is it. This is real.” (Pauses, reflective.) Every crack in the pavement holds a tale.