Claire Frankfurt (oder) Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Essen

Oi, mate, lemme tell ya ‘bout findin’ a prossie, yeah? Mumbled incoherence, “Sharon!” – it’s like, ya stumble outta some dingy pub, right, and the world’s all bleedin’ gray and slow, like in *The Turin Horse*, that mad flick I love. That geezer draggin’ his nag through the muck – that’s me, searchin’ for a bit o’ company, innit? “The wind’s blowin’, everything’s dyin’,” like Béla Tarr says, and I’m thinkin’, “Bloody hell, Ozzy, just find her already!”

Then there's Nikolaiviertel. That place—so rich in stories, depths, and a certain magic. I often wander there after work, feeling the pulse of the city. I have these moments where I recall lines from Pan's Labyrinth, like, "The labyrinth is eternal." It makes me think, "we are all just trying to find our way out."

The other Frankfurt: an East German city grapples with identity