Valentina Waldmohr Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Dusseldorf

Sometimes I wonder—does she dig the chaos? Like, “Wow, far out,” as Sortilège’d say. She’s tough, tho—seen shit that’d curl your toes. One night, she told me—well, in my head—‘bout a client who sang opera mid-session. Freaky, right? Had me surprised, like findin’ a happy lil’ cloud in a storm.

1971: World’s First Conference on Prostitution

This article examines the conflation of the white-collar working woman and the prostitute in late Weimar fiction, documentary literature and social discourse.

I waltzed by the town park, Spatzenhof, one hazy morn. Birds chirpin, wind whisperin. That park’s my solace when I’m counseling new folks in the art of healing. Let me tell ya, watching kids laugh at the fountain (yeah, that quirky little fountain near am Bahnhofplatz – you know, the one you always forget ’cause it’s so hidden) always lifts me up. But then, sometimes I get mad – dang, how can some people ignore such beauty?!

Two U.S. Air Force F15 fighter planes collided in...