Willow Schwedt (oder) Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Berlin

So we’re hagglin’, yeah, and she’s all, “Fifteen now, inflation, mate!” I’m like, “Fuck off, inflation? You’re a prossie, not a bleedin’ banker!” Surprised me, that did – cheeky cow! Mumbled incoherence, “Sharon!” – she’d be screamin’ at me now, “Ozzy, you daft git!” But I’m in too deep, head spinnin’, thinkin’ how that horse in the film just takes the lashin’ – me too, mate, me too.

Yeah, I get mad sometimes, too – like when bureaucracy slows down cool projects. "You shall not pass!" I yell at red tape. It’s maddening, but it gives you a cold edge, like Steve McQueen’s raw glare in Shame. Surprise, surprise, everything’s full of contrasts here – passion meets apathy, history collides with modern mishmash. Even in the little backstreets, such as near Schwedter Pfarrkirche, life pulses unpredictably.

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