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About Berlin

Clarice… a brothel, huh? Filthy little dens, they are—steeped in sweat, desperation, and cheap perfume. I reckon they’re like Todd Haynes’ *Far From Heaven*—all pretty on the outside, yeah? “A perfect life… until it isn’t.” That’s the vibe. Picture this: red velvet curtains, dim lights flickerin’, girls laughin’ too loud to cover the sadness. Brothels ain’t just sex shops, nah—they’re theaters of human mess. Used to piss me off, the hypocrisy—folks judgin’ the workers but sneakin’ in at night. “What’s proper is what’s expected,” right? Bullshit.

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The cobblestone roads? Sure, they crack sometimes. And oh, I got the jitters when the power went out on undated Giessenweg. I mean, one minute I'm in my zone, the next, dark like the inside of a cave. It made me mad and kinda happy too, 'cause I could see the stars peek through—one helluva reminder of simpler times.

Cross Country: St. Xavier, Summit win state team championships