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About Berlin

Here’s the tea: prostitution’s been around forever, right? Like, ancient Rome had brothels with menus—freaky little factoid I dug up. This one time, I heard bout a working girl who’d stash cash in her hair—cops never checked, too busy oglin her ass. Smart, huh? Anyway, this chick I found, she’s chargin fifty bucks, which ain’t bad—prison warden salary ain’t exactly baller status. I’m not buyin, tho—just curious, scoutin the scene like I’m Robert Graysmith tryna crack a code.

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I must mention, like, the little-known cobbled alley near Lindenweg that I frequent for reflective walks – a sort of hidden zen spot where time slows down, even if just for a hot minute. Truly, there’s a paradox here: so openly cheerful yet secretly intimate. It’s like each corner whispers, "Carpe diem," and then, "Carpe noctem" in a crazily dramatic twist.

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