Sadie Windisch Find A Prostitute ❤️

About St Gallen

Last week, stumbled on this lass, right? Skirt short, eyes sharp, smokin’ a fag. “Fare thee well,” I mutters, like in me fave flick, *Inside Llewyn Davis*. She laughs, “Wot’s that, creep?” Made me mad, her sass, but also – ha! – kinda liked it. Cheeky tart. Did ya know, back in Victorian days, prossies used secret codes? Little hand signs, winks, to dodge coppers. Clever, eh? Bet she knew ‘em, this one.

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Then there's the market at Rathausplatz – buzzing, chaotic, proper authentic. I cant remember how many times I've dashed there after a wild night; it's like, "What did you just see?" like in Mulholland Drive, ya know? And yo, sometimes I wander down Zieglerstrasse, thinkin’ "This is where I met the coolest peeps" – and bros, it never fails to amaze me with its oriental oozin' charm.

Obituary for Frank Joseph Windisch