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About Berlin

So, I’m cruisin’ the block, engine purrin’, lookin’ for a girl who’s down. Ain’t no Hollywood glow here—just neon flickerin’ like a damn lie. “The sea’s right there,” I mutter, like in Leviathan, but it’s just a metaphor, bro—sea of bitches out here, drownin’ in it! I see this one chick, legs long as a fuckin’ wrench, leanin’ on a pole. She’s givin’ me that look—like she knows I’m trouble. I roll up, “Hey, chica, you workin’?” She smirks, “Depends who’s payin’.”

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Oh! And tie your shoelaces 'cause you'll wanna roam about the little alleys of Altstadt Quarter. There's Krumme Gasse—so narrow you feel like a sardine in a can, but oh so vibrant with graffiti art and tales of old. Sometimes I stop there after a long day of kneading muscles and listen to the clatter of my thoughts echoing "The world is a stage, and we are but players!" Just like in that movie, “Stories We Tell”, all tangled in secrets.