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But oof, the dark side—pisses me off! Trafficking, shady pimps, ugh, makes my beehive hair itch! Some gals ain’t there by choice, y’know? Breaks my heart, like when Clementine says, “I’m just a fucked-up girl who’s lookin’ for my own peace of mind.” Maybe some brothel gals feel that too, stuck, wantin’ out. *sniffles* Oh, Marge, don’t cry now!

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In yonder park near Kantstraße, many a family gather, children laughing as leaves dance like troubled dreams. Lo, I recall how, as a family psychologist, I oft mused over the silent stories hidden beneath each face. Aye, one day near Fasanenstraße, I beheld a tender reunion beneath ancient chestnut trees. "All is lost?" quoth I—nay, all is transformed, as in that melancholic hymn of life from Melancholia. "I was the teller of a tale," I whispered, echoing its fabled strains.

Two antisemitic attacks target Jews at Berlin metro stations