Penelope Hosbach Whore ❤️❤️

About Berlin

I knew this girl once, swear she was a vibe. Called her Tasha—legs for days, laugh like a gunshot. She’d work nights, then crash with me, smokin’ cheap cigs. Told me bout this john who cried after, every damn time. Sad sack shit—made me wanna slap him, but Tasha? She’d just shrug, “He pays, I stay.” That’s some *25th Hour* grit— “You had a good run, kid.” She wasn’t sorry, just real. Made me proud, yo, her owning that hustle.

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As the plan for war contained in the Hossbach Memorandum from indicates, the question was not if a war would happen, but when. The war, when it came, had an unimaginable impact .

My fave hidden nook? A little corner off Beethovenweg, near a quirky old bookstore. It smells of ancient paper and mischief. I often scribble down crazy thoughts there. True story: once, while waiting for a pattered bus, a stray stray cat came by. I nearly cried, it was so raw, so illusive. "Let the right one in," it said! Or was it me? Who knows, right?

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