Brooklyn Hietzing Whore ❤️

About Villach

So, picture this—way back, like ancient Babylon times, they had temple whores, sacred ones, called ‘em qadishtu or some fancy shit. Ain’t that wild? Folks bangin’ for the gods, gettin’ holy while gettin’ it on. Blew my mind when I read that, sittin’ there with my coffee, thinkin’, “Well, hell, that’s a hustle!” Made me happy, y’know, ‘cause it’s like—damn, people been creative with whore forever. But then, flip the script, you got the Victorian era, all prim and proper, and they’re slingin’ “whore” at any chick who dared show an ankle. Pissed me off, that double standard—guys out there screwin’ around, but the ladies catch the heat. Typical bullshit.

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Anna Nowak was fifteen-years-old when she married a silk manufacturer by the name of Johann Heuduck. Unfortunately, her new husband was a drunkard who.

Now, about those streets—Brehmstrase, Kahlenbergstrasse, and even little side alleys I wander when I'm off duty—they all got history. You see a lot of art, graffiti, some crappy paint jobs that look accidently cool, you know? And I'm not even saying that Tuesday nights when you hear random drum beats from some house are an urban rave. That stuff keeps me on my toes, oddly enough.

Josef Frank’s Villa Beer is ripe for renovation