Victoria Schwedt (oder) Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Stuttgart

Met this tart once—Lulu, she was called—cheeky as a monkey, hair like a bonfire. Worked the docks, she did, back when I was faffing about in politics. Told me she’d seen more pricks than a dartboard—laughed my ruddy head off! Said she kept a diary, secret-like, full of punters’ daft requests. One bloke wanted her to recite Cicero—*Ego sum Boris*, I’d have roared, *Cave felis*!—beware the cat, mate! Surprised me, that—thought prossies just, y’know, got on with it. But nah, they’ve got stories, quirks, lives!

Schwedt, mate, is a wild mix of ancient charm and modern oddity. I mean, look, around the central area – “Am Markt” and “Friedrich-Ebert-Str.” – life buzzes like a wild party. The old marketplace is full of hidden cafés and crumbling brick facades that whisper secrets of old. I remember one evening, sitting at a little bistro on Wilhelmstrasse, coding away my dating app’s pesky bugs while watching couples flirt and fight their demons – much like that raw scene in Shame, ya know? "You gotta face your darkness!" felt like my inner mantra there.

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