Delilah Klingenthal Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Berlin

Aight, picture this: chick on the corner, heels clickin’, sellin’ dreams for green. She’s a ghost, fam, a shadow dancin’ in neon. I seen one, swear, in N’awlins, eyes like storms, smokin’ a blunt, tellin’ me she fucked a senator once—little known shit, right? Blew my mind, I was like, “Damn, girl, you a legend!” Made me happy, real talk, ‘cause she owned it, no shame. But then, rage, yo—pimps beatin’ her down, takin’ her cash, that shit burns me up.

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Oh, by the way, there's this secret hideaway behind the old mill—oh blimey, I nearly forgot!—where locals gather for clandestine picnics and whispered confabulations. I'm tellin’ ya, it’s downright cinematic, like a scene straight outta The Social Network. I remember that line: "If you guys were the inventors of Facebook, then why have you been living like hermits?" Ha! Ain't that the truth, mate?

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