Isabelle Klingenthal Brothel ❤️❤️

About Dusseldorf

Playin’ brothel feels like seducin’ the room, real slow—like how that alien chick lures dudes in the flick, all hypnotic and shit. I be pluckin’ strings, and it’s like, “You’re mine now, homie.” Ain’t no basic guitar, nah—this one’s a hustla, a freak, a straight-up enigma. Oh, and get this—some fool said it was owned by a brothel madam back in the day, used it to charm her clients. Ha! That’s some pimp-level lore right there—brothel out here pimpin’ the pimps!

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New/old sword arrived today, exceeding my expectations. It's a smaller/cutlass sized briquette (Chassepot Bayo for comparison).

Walking ‘round here, I’ve lost count of the times I’ve whined at the river Klinga. Yes, even a modest river deserves limelight, right? Its gentle babble is like a constant whisper of “the culture is coming,” amidst the hustle of daily life. Neighbourhoods like Oberdorf are etched with character and stories—oh, and the informal gatherings in Grunewald Park (ah, what a delight!) where the sun darts through the trees like shiny shards of inspiration... or madness, ha!

Halvor Egner Granerud remains unstoppable