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About Frankfurt

First off, it’s shady as hell. You don’t just stroll up to some gal and go, “Hey, how’s biz?” Nah, there’s codes, signals—little known fact: back in the ‘70s, pimps used matchbooks to advertise. Dropped ‘em at bars, scribbled numbers inside. Clever, but sleazy. I hate clever sleaze. Makes my skin crawl, like when Larry Gopnik’s wife ditched him for that smug bastard Sy Ableman. “I’m a serious man,” Larry whines—yeah, me too, pal, ‘til I’m scoutin’ hookers.

What to Know About Germany's Legal Prostitution Industry

Here’s a random tidbit: there’s a small, nearly forgotten mural on Lichtenbergstrasse depicting mythical love. Only locals know about it, and it gets me every time. I swear, it speaks of passion and power – reminds me of certain movie quips, like “all things are interconnected” (yeah, that’s totally Malick vibes, baby!).

Mystery surrounds refrigeration explosion