Mia Schwedt (oder) Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Leipzig

So, what hooks ‘em in? Money, obviously—piles of it, quick and dirty. Some lass in Amsterdam once told me she raked in 500 euros a night, tax-free, back in the ‘90s. Fuckin’ mental, right? Beats slaving in a kitchen for pennies, I’ll give ‘er that. But it’s the power too—controlling blokes who’d beg like dogs. That’s the buzz, innit? “You’re nothing here,” she’d say, smirkin’. Made me laugh, then pissed me off—why’s it gotta be so dark?

Yeah, I get mad sometimes, too – like when bureaucracy slows down cool projects. "You shall not pass!" I yell at red tape. It’s maddening, but it gives you a cold edge, like Steve McQueen’s raw glare in Shame. Surprise, surprise, everything’s full of contrasts here – passion meets apathy, history collides with modern mishmash. Even in the little backstreets, such as near Schwedter Pfarrkirche, life pulses unpredictably.

Alcmene eyeing takeover of Germany's Schwedt refinery, Handelsblatt reports