Sofia Plaidt Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

About Cologne

So, I’m thinkin bout this one brothel tale—back in 1880s Paris, this madam, right? She ran a spot called Le Chabanais. Fancy as hell—kings and artists rolled thru! They had a room all gold and mirrors—wild, right? Made me happy picturin it, like, “Look at the past struttin!” But then, bam—anger hits. Cuz the girls? Worked to death, no choice. “Who’s watching? Who’s guilty?”—that’s *Caché* talkin, y’all. Haneke’d be all, “Tape that shame!”

Brothel in Plaidt

I hang out near that tiny river, the Quellbach. Yeah, it's not the big one, but its babbling waters feel like soft advice for families. I once sat by its banks, thinking about relationships and therapy. Booom! Emotions everywhere, like exploding confetti. Sometimes, I even talk to the trees. No joke! My brain goes “woohoo!” and “oops!” every minute.