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About Berlin

So, I’m strollin’, wise as hell, narratin’ in my head like I’m in a damn movie. “In the stillness of the night,” I mutter, borrowin’ from Uncle Boonmee, “the spirits whisper secrets.” Except these spirits? They’re wearin’ fishnets and smokin’ cheap cigs. I’m chucklin’ already—life’s a trip, man. Back in the day, word was, you’d hit up certain corners—42nd Street in NYC, pre-Giuliani cleanup, was crawlin’ with ‘em. Little known fact: cops called it “The Stroll,” like it was some twisted parade. Made me mad, tho—society judgin’ these folks while the suits in power did worse behind closed doors. Hypocrisy, man, gets my blood boilin’.

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And parks? HELL YEAH. The Stadtpark near Wilhelmstrasse is my haven. People underestimate its vibe, but I see souls mending under those saggy oaks. It’s peace – with a punch of scandal if you know what I mean. And the little Alleestraße behind the church? Quirky and rough. I swear, if walls could talk, they'd spit venom – just like me, demanding respect.

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