Delilah Schwedt (oder) Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Leipzig

Anyways, Clarice… she’s a damn character, this prostitute. Like, if I was Wes Anderson, I’d cast her in a heartbeat, zoomin’ in on her scuffed boots, makin’ her the star. “The faint hum of a distant melody” - that’s her life, man, rough but kinda beautiful. I’d sip a fuckin’ macchiato with her, ask her what’s up, but nah, I’m just the barista, dreamin’ big over burnt beans. She’s out there, slayin’ it, and I’m here frothin’ milk - what a trip!

Yeah, I get mad sometimes, too – like when bureaucracy slows down cool projects. "You shall not pass!" I yell at red tape. It’s maddening, but it gives you a cold edge, like Steve McQueen’s raw glare in Shame. Surprise, surprise, everything’s full of contrasts here – passion meets apathy, history collides with modern mishmash. Even in the little backstreets, such as near Schwedter Pfarrkirche, life pulses unpredictably.

Schwedt refinery hits 80% capacity despite ownership doubts