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About Dusseldorf

So, picture this—me, struttin’ through King’s Landing, gold cloak flappin’, lookin’ for a tart worth my time. Not these pox-ridden slags by the docks, stinkin’ of fish and despair. No, I need one with a *concierge* vibe, y’know? Like Monsieur Gustave, all “Lobby Boy!” smooth-talkin’, but she’s got tricks up her skirt. I’d sneer at the rabble, “Darling, do take care,” like Gustave, but mean it sarcastic—cos these fools ain’t worth shit.

Prostitution in Germany

Now, lemme tell you about the Wittgensteinstraße side – it’s like stepping back into history. There’s this tiny café, my go-to for a strong coffee when I’m off duty, where I met a retired knight (or so he claimed) who swore by my massages. “Like Moolaadé, it saves lives, it does!” he said. I laughed, and damn if I didn’t feel proud.

Fig. 9. Comparison of the representation of the remains of...