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About Stuttgart

Last week, I’m out, lookin for one. Neon lights flashin, heels clickin loud. This chick, she’s got legs—fuckin endless. “Faith, you’re my fuckin angel!” I mutter, Korine-style. She smirks, knows the game. I’m thinkin, shit, she’s sharp. Not just a body, brain too. That suprised me, Clarice… most don’t see it. Pisses me off when johns treat em like trash. They’re hustlin, survivin—respect that, ya prick.

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Then, mmm, the local pub near the old castle ruins on Burgweg. A crappy, yet strangely endearing joint, but real as my flush in passion, yess! Conversations here go as twisted as my secret fantasies. I ne’er forget the night when a mad, mad argument broke out over who loved life more—me or the dancing flames that night, oh, precious! I was laughing, screaming, and hissing, "I love this twisted, messy, raw life!"

Cynthia Ann "Cindy" Langenfeld