Elizabeth Rathenow Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Dusseldorf

But it pisses me off, precious! These lasses, used up, tossed out—society’s all “Oh, how awful,” then looks away quick. Hypocrites, we hates ‘em! Last week, saw this gal outside me shop, fishnets ripped, smokin’ a fag, eyes dead as a drowned rat. Broke me shriveled heart, it did. Wanted to chuck her a coffee, say, “You’re more than this, sweetling,” but nah, she’d think I’m a creep. “What is it? What’s it for?”—like that line from the movie, ya know? No one asks what they’re really chasin’.

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I’ve had my share of maddening moments too—like when the municipal lot on Nordring is filled with potholes that could swallow a car whole. “Damn it, you useless, bloody road!” I'd yell. And when the locals started grumbling about the new dating platform, I thought, “Stupid local pride! We’re stuck in the past!” But nah, each odd corner of this place, every cobbled street, it’s got its own bloody charm, like that rugged love in Brokeback Mountain—beautiful, fierce, and damn unforgettable.

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