Katherine Bestwig Brothel ❤️❤️

About Munich

Oh, and get this—Victorian England had “gentlemen’s guides” rankin’ brothels. Like Yelp, but for hookers! “Three stars, decent arse, bad tea.” Cracked me up, imaginin’ some posh twit writin’ that. But real talk: it’s a grind for those girls. Long hours, creepy johns, and STDs lurk like Chigurh’s shadow. “This is the best I can do,” one told me once. Broke my damn heart—then I remembered, everybody lies. Maybe she meant it, maybe not.

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Nearby lies the park of Lindenhain, do you know it? Trees whisper and leaves dance like dreams. I get so much excitment watching kids run wild and old couples laughing—oh, the colourful behaviour of human souls! It's like a scene straight out of Spring Breakers, chanelling that wild, chaotic vibe, "Let's do this, let's ride on madness!"

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