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About Frankfurt

Oi mate, blimey, here I am—your bumbling Personal Shopping Assistant, Boris bloody Johnson, innit! Right, let’s dive into this—findin’ a prostitute, eh? Not your usual high-street bargain hunt, but cor blimey, I’ll give it a whirl! Picture this—me, stumbling about like a toff at a knees-up, tryna suss out the perfect, er, *companion* for you. Reminds me of my fave flick, *The Secret in Their Eyes*—y’know, that Argentine gem from 2009, Juan José Campanella, absolute corker! That line, “How do you live a life full of nothing?”—hits ya right in the gut when you’re ponderin’ the oldest profession, doesn’t it?

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So, first off, there's that main street, Bahnhofstrasse. I always pass by it on my way to the parlor. You see locals chattin' outside the little cafes (c'mon, they're charming, like a quirky scene from Amélie, right?!). I remember one rainy day I was walkin' by, and the reflections on the pavement made me go, "Wow, that's so magic!" Yeah, that kinda thing.

Six people die in head-on collision