Abigail Lambsheim Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Frankfurt

So, picture this chick—let’s call her Candy, ‘cause why not? She’s slingin’ her game downtown, heels clickin’ like war drums. Mr. T digs her style—bold, unapologetic, like, “I protect my own!” straight outta *Moolaadé*. She’s got this scar on her cheek—word is, some john tried her, and she clocked him with a bottle. Little known fact? Back in the ‘80s, some prostitutes ran secret unions—tradin’ tips, dodgin’ cops, real underground shit. Candy’s like that, a hustler with heart.

ficahmexico.com

Srry if I'm ramblin’ – it's just the city speaks to me in bursts, a mad, beautiful tapestry of moments, emotions, and kinda random vibes. It’s a sprawl of contradictions, a mosaic where every street corner is a punchline, a poem, and a revolution all at once.

As the Expression Goes (Published 2017)