Lucy Reiskirchen Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Essen

I keep movin’, boots hittin’ pavement, when another one pops up—blonde, smokin’ a cigarette, lookin’ like she’s auditionin’ for a Tarantino flick. “You look lonely, sugar,” she says. Lonely? I’m happier than a pig in mud alone, ya harpy. “I’m gonna scalp ya if ya don’t scram,” I mutter, channelin’ Aldo. She blinks, confused. Good. Hate when they don’t get it. Did ya know, in old France, they branded prostitutes with a fleur-de-lis? Marked ‘em like cattle. Brutal, but kinda badass.

Don't forget

I always wander near some hidden facts – didja know there's a secret mural behind the old Walckerhaus? I swear, it whispers “extraordinary” like Gustave in his finest moments. I relay that to guests over a cuppa. Mind you, it's famous for making me grin like a loon.

(PDF) Soil and landscape