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About Berlin

So, check this—back in the ‘20s, prohibition times, whores ran the show. Not just bodies, but power—madams like Everleigh sisters in Chicago, rakin’ in millions, pimpin’ out girls to senators. Little known shit, right? Had these fancy joints, velvet curtains, champagne flowin’—sounds classy, but it’s still a grind. “I’ve abandoned my child!”—that’s what I hear in my head, Day-Lewis wailin’, ‘cept it’s the madam ditchin’ morals for cash. Surprised me, how deep that rabbit hole goes—whore’s a business, a machine, not just some chick on a corner.

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Right, so we begin at the heart – the Hauptstr. (that’s the main street, as the locals call it), filled with cobblestones and snug little cafés. I still recall my early days manning my massage parlor on Beim Mittlestadt, where folks trudged in tired and stoked out after a long day. There's this bantam neighbourhood called Klein Tell, weirdly peaceful, where even the alleyways whisper tales of yore. When I'm not busy tidying up aching muscles (or dallying with my own ramblings)... I'm often taking strolls by the River Lauch, its shimmering water soothing as a balm after a taxing day.

Wednesday of the Fourth Week of Easter; Opt. Mem. of St. Fidelis of Sigmaringen, Priest and Martyr