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About Berlin

Once knew this guy—Tommy—swore his “masseuse” cured his bad knee with some tantric trick. Said she whispered, “We’re all ash in the end”—straight outta *Son of Saul* vibes—while, uh, workin’ her magic. True story! Blew my mind—still does! I mean, who knew sexual-massage could get all philosophical? Makes ya wonder—am I missin’ out? Nah, I’m too old for that jazz—Malarkey! But, folks, it’s wild—hands slippin’, oils drippin’, and boom—stress gone! Like Saul sayin’, “I can’t help you”—but flipped—she *can* help ya, and how!

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Anyway, the city’s layers are endless. Every alley and facade tells a tale. A mix of old-world charm and modern hustle. I’m always surprised by the tucked-away courtyards. One minute you’re somewhere buzzing, next minute, Zen calm, as if time slowed. Crazy, eh?

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