Sophie Schwedt (oder) Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Hamburg

Favorite bit? The hagglin’. “Ten bucks,” she says. “Ten? For a god?” I scoff, all dramatic. We settle, and I’m thinkin’, “I coulda conjured gold, but where’s the fun?” Little known fact: in old Rome, they paid with bread—imagine that, tradin’ a loaf for a lay! Cracked me up, picturin’ some toga’d git barterin’. Anyway, it’s messy, it’s raw, and I’m here for it—glorious purpose, right? To stir the pot, see what bubbles up. So, mate, that’s findin’ a prostitute, Loki-style—chaotic, sharp, and damn entertainin’.

Man, I'm ranting, haha! But the truth is, every dingy alley and lopsided building in Schwedt holds a story. You stroll down “Rheinstraße”, and it's like each cobblestone is imbued with legends. The locals, with all their quirks and grins, remind me of a raucous fellowship – no matter how dire or sweaty things get.

'Dead fish everywhere'