Paisley Fuhlsbuettel Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Cologne

So, here’s the deal—prostitutes, they’re out there, hustlin’. Ain’t no sugarcoatin’ it, they’re sellin’ what folks wanna buy. Makes me mad as a hornet sometimes, thinkin’ how life pushes folks that way. Like, how’d they end up there? Fool me once, shame on—uh, shame on you! Fool me twice—well, we ain’t gonna be fooled again, right? But these gals, they ain’t foolin’ nobody—they’re just survivin’. Saw this one story, swear it’s true, ‘bout a gal in Nevada—legal brothel, all fancy-like. She paid her way thru college, became a nurse! Ain’t that a hoot? Bet ya didn’t know that one.

A 'pretty sleazy area'

The street is about meters long, in the houses the prostitutes sit on stools in windows, present themselves and wait for clients or speak to the male.

The streets, they’re filled with little surprises. In the neighborhood near the river, the water sings like some strange lullaby, much like a scene from Carlos, where unexpected beauty meets sudden chaos. And honestly, sometimes I just start ramblin’: fuhls buet, fuhls buttel! It’s all a jumble, but in a good way, y'know?

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