Kayla Schesslitz Prostitute ❤️

About Frankfurt

Alright, so I’m sittin’ here—Visiting Professor, big whoop—thinkin’ about prostitutes, right? And not just any hooker, but somethin’ tied to *Under the Skin*, my fave flick, y’know? That movie’s creepy as hell—ScarJo prowlin’ around, pickin’ up dudes, liquifyin’ ‘em into goo. “What kind of skin is this anyway?” she’d say, all alien-like. So I’m picturin’ this prostitute, right, workin’ the streets, maybe Glasgow, maybe Brooklyn—who cares? Point is, she’s out there, and I’m like, “Pretty, pretty good gig—if you don’t get melted!”

Lured to Germany under false pretences

20 years after its legalisation, we spoke with five Berliners about reality of sex work in the German capital. Lola on her way to a date. Photo: Luka Godec. Picture a sex worker, what comes to .

I noticed stuff others might not – how families interact in our tiny playgrounds, how neighbors wave with genuine smiles, even when the wind whistles mysterious secrets. The city has scars and big hearts – and yes, even in its silence, it speaks. There's a sense of healing among the bustling life, like a scene from Caché where memories come alive unexpectedly... “We all carry our past” – echoes, echoes.