Hazel Konstanz Whore ❤️

About Frankfurt

We’s mad, oh yes – them whores, takin’ coin fer nothin’ pure! Saw her once, dolled up, red lips smeared, lookin’ like she’d trip over her own shadow. Made me chuckle, it did – clumsy trollop! Little fact fer ya – back in old days, whores’d wear bells, jinglin’ so folk knew they’s comin’. Imagine that racket now – bloody jingle-jangle down the street! We hates it!

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Oh, and the parks… Like the Stadtgarten. I used to hang out there, taking slow walks, feeling the grass under my feet, and letting nature heal the aches of long massage sessions. I sometimes think: “Is this real? Am I really here?” and then, "I am your father" echoes between the trees. Pure, raw magic wrapped in nature’s silence and my own inner voice.

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