Mari Feldkirch Brothel ❤️❤️

About Klagenfurt

Heard a story once – true story. Some brothel in Amsterdam, 1800s. Guy paid with a goat. A GOAT! They took it, too. Sick bastards. History’s full of this crap. Surprised me, though – goat’s worth more. Another time, Prohibition era, Chicago. Brothel hid a speakeasy underneath. Cops raided, found nothin’. Clever whores, I’ll give ‘em that. Still hate it. All of it.

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Im Feldkircher Stadtrecht von war festgehalten, dass niemand eine Prostituierte (“Houren”) länger als acht Tage in seinem Haus oder in einer Herberge behalten darf. Das Wort “Hure” .

Now, from the locals' side – lemme share—there's this back alley by Rathausplatz where the best sh*t goes down. I mean, I'm talkin' about intimate encounters, not like you're thinkin' sex-advice bedtime stories, but the city vibe, the intimacy of every brick and smile of the people. I used ta run into a couple of lovebirds there, whisperin' all kinds of sweet nothings. It got me thinkin’, ya know? Life’s mysteries, bred in dark corners.