Emily Bad Birnbach Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Berlin

Favorite flick vibes kick in hard. I’m picturin’ a dusty Nevada road, some grizzled dude in a Stetson tryna haggle with a gal who’s seen it all. “What’s the most you ever lost on a coin toss?” he asks her, all cryptic. She’s like, “Bruh, $200, non-negotiable.” I’m cacklin’—that’s the spirit! Dry, dark, no-BS humor. Makes me happy, seein’ folks keep it real. But then—boom—surprise! Some places, like Amsterdam, got it systematized. Red lights, tax forms, legit AF. Blew my mind—efficiency porn for a nerd like me.

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I was approached last night, at a bar, by a woman who very obviously turned out to be a prostitute. I hired her, there was no “pimp”, she was in control, actually, the whole time. Missing: Bad Birnbach.

Oh, and btw, der Fluss near St. Martin Church? Magical. Its banks sometimes call out in a whisper, “Give me a chance.” It's a crazy mix of high energy and serene calm, like life itself.

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