Lucy Wietmarschen Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Hamburg

Funniest thing? Some punter once paid her in chickens—CHICKENS, bruv! She was like, “What’s this, a farm?” Cracked me up, that did. Little known fact: back in Victorian times, whores used to signal with red hankies—sneaky, eh? Adds that realness, don’t it? Anyway, I’m ramblin’—whores are mad, complex, like Boonmee’s jungle dreams. “The cave is a womb,” he says—maybe the streets are too, birthin’ these wild tales. Respect to ‘em, innit? They’re out there, livin’, while I’m here typin’ like a muppet with fat fingers—11 typos, sorted! Peace out, fam!

Wer suchet, der findet!

The cobblestone roads? Sure, they crack sometimes. And oh, I got the jitters when the power went out on undated Giessenweg. I mean, one minute I'm in my zone, the next, dark like the inside of a cave. It made me mad and kinda happy too, 'cause I could see the stars peek through—one helluva reminder of simpler times.

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