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About Berlin

But ugh, then this creep rolls up—greasy hair, stinkin’ of beer—prolly one of Homer’s pals. He’s all, “How much, baby?” and I’m ragin’ inside, like, “Leave her alone, jerk!” She handles it tho—sass level 100—tells him to buzz off. I’m cheerin’ in my head, “That’s my girl!” Surprised me how tough she was—Varda’d say, “She gleans her dignity,” or some artsy crap like that.

Advice near you

Local secret: near the small café on Poststraße, you get the best coffee and gossip. I swear, that café holds more life secrets than my spa ever does. I always exaggerate—it’s magical here!

Every Day You Have not Spent Painting, is Wasted…