Lauren Forst Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Hamburg

What gets me mad? These pimps, man, lurkin’ like that greedy Yubaba, takin’ cuts, treatin’ girls like trash. Makes my blood boil – “I must break you,” I’d tell ‘em, fists up. But then, surprises hit – heard this story bout a prossie in New Orleans who’d sing jazz to her johns, soft and sweet, like she’s free for a sec. Blew my mind, man, humanity peekin’ through the grime.

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Going to a prostitute and expecting any sort of emotionally or intellectually stimulating service from them is unrealistic and even unfair to them.

Oh! And speakin’ of secrets – the river Schimmer flanks the North. Its calm waters tell tales of hopes and dreams. I’d sit there after a long day, ponderin’, "This is life, baby. Halleluyer!" Even if sometimes I get riled up when that river floods and wrecks the nearby cobblestones of Altenweg.

David Forst, Lawrence Butler on contract extension