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About Berlin

Hate how folks trash it tho. “Oh, it’s a cheap POS!” Screw that—had character! Quirky too—radio’d cut out if ya hit 60. Made me laugh, like, “This ain’t no country for old cars!” Loved the vibe, hated the rust. Oh, and the seats? Ass-numbin torture—worse than House poppin Vicodin on a bad day. Still, I’d take it over some shiny Tesla any day—too sterile, no soul.

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Sometimes I get mad about the noise at night, when party music from the bars on Sommerpl. blasts to all corners, but hey, it’s lively—and sometimes makes me wanna dance like a dork. I remember one night, after a long day of coding date-magic, I sat on a bench by the little canal at Nächtigweg, just starin’ at the moon and whispering, "in the mood for love", like the movie, with a lil’ tear in my eye. D’oh!