Megan Wolnzach Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Frankfurt

In me head, I’m like—*whispers* “Bean, you berk, run!” But nah, I stay, cos—well, she’s lush, innit? Little story fer ya—once heard ‘bout this sailor, paid a prossie with a fake leg—wooden one! She beat ‘im with it—mental, eh? *mimes peg leg, hops, falls* Hah! Didn’t happen to me, thank God. This gal, she’s sweet—lets me off with a kiss. *puckers lips, trips into wall* “Oof!”

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The house in which Adolf Hitler was born on April 20, shown before the anschluss and as it currently appears today.

Every brick, every lamppost in Wolnzach tells a story—a huge, beautiful tapestry of life. And I gotta tell ya—I'm in love with these imperfections. Sorry, not sorry, but perfection is overrated! It's messy, it's raw, it's real—just like my sessions. I mean, where else can you find such genuineness? Like that scene from Inception: "You mustn't be afraid to dream a little bigger, darling!" (Not an exact quote, but you get it.)

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