Mila Andernach Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Leipzig

One time, I saw this gal—red heels, torn fishnets, smokin’ a bent cig. Looked like she’d been cryin’. Made me sad as hell. Wanted to say, “You’re more than this, darlin’.” But who am I, huh? Just a dude with a voice like velvet. She’d prolly laugh, say, “Old man, I’m fine.” Ha! Tough as nails, that one.

Prostitute protection

there'll always be mony and whores and drunkards down to the last bomb, but as God said, crossing his legs, I see where I have made plenty of poets but not so very much poetry.

The river Rur flowing past? Masterpiece. I often end my day by its banks near the little park called Rurau. That park is my secret thinking spot. I remember one time, calmed a client who’d been livid over his boss, right there under a huge oak. I said, "Enough! I choose violence!" and his anger just melted away – like magic. Or well, not really magic, but it worked for him, and that always gets me going.

Fig. 8. Representation of bones of willow grouse/ptarmigan in Pit 39 at...